A Son for a Daughter
by SleepingSeeker
Summary: Based on a little prompt on Tumblr that I sent to BlueCladHero for his reaction - 'Splinter has agreed to exchange you for the return of his daughter. (In the hopes of later rescuing you, but you don't know that.)' This is the tragic story that arose from that prompt. Rated M. (Nominated for 2013 Stealthystories AFFAs for Most Spot-on Supporting Character (Karai) & Best Non-Con)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Drabble based on an anon sent to Bluecladhero on Tumblr for his reaction….I could not pass this plot bunny up.

_'Splinter has agreed to exchange you for the return of his daughter. (In the hopes of later rescuing you, but you don't know that.)'_

* * *

**A Son for a Daughter**

* * *

The looming clouds above hung heavy with unshed snow. His breath puffed out in tiny clouds of miniscule ice crystals. His heart hammered and adrenaline raced through his system. Fight or flight urging him in two directions at once. Splitting him in two. But he could only remain still. Standing in place in the cold twilight air. The inertia it was causing was making him feel ill. He did his best not to show his discomfort; holding himself rigid and stiff, knees knocking slightly; teeth chattering, despite trying to keep his jaw clenched tight. Even now, he wanted his father to be proud of him. Even now. It was January and the city was in the grip of sub-zero temperatures. But it was the frigid chill that stood between him and Master Splinter that was making him shake.

His eyes rose by inches to the one he called Sensei . . . but more tenderly . . . _father_, standing next to him. Speaking no words of encouragement. No words of comfort. Nothing. From the time he explained in his calm, simple, direct way – was it only this morning that he'd revealed to Leonardo what his fate would be? Was that right? It seemed so long ago - to the moment of them standing here, he had said nothing more. It had been decided and finalized. There was no turning back.

Leonardo found no argument to barter with, while his brothers howled and complained and cried until Master Splinter sent them all to their rooms for the rest of the day. Chasing Raphael off with his walking stick, until finally having to use a nerve pinch to subdue him. Leo was frozen in place. Stunned and shocked. The scene seemed to play out from far away and he was a mere observer to the terrible events that were unfolding. Tearing his beloved family to shreds. Hurt and afraid as he digested what was to become of him. But mostly, he was confused. He thought he was . . . good. He thought Splinter saw him as his own flesh and blood. Not as something that could be exchanged for something better. Someone more worthy.

The tension hung, thick and cloying, like a third presence between them. His remained stoic and still; relaxed; hands clasped in front of his body, one over the other, patiently waiting. The decision had been made and finalized. His brothers remained at home. Their last urgent, tearful pleas and raging protests were met only with stony silence by the large rat. Their teacher. Father.

_Father. Why? What have I done to make you want to be rid of me?_

The lump formed in his throat and his eyes stung violently with unshed tears. He shifted. Steeling himself against his own brittle emotions. Fear was something to be mastered and dominated over. Self-control was something to strive for and achieve. At that moment, Leonardo felt the fragile grip on composure slipping, terror replacing the façade of calm. Blinking back the threatening tears rapidly, he started as the ones they were meeting emerged from the surrounding shadows like wraiths from a nightmare. He felt his stomach turn to ice and drop. His legs grew watery and weak. He had to remain strong. Even now he wanted to impress his father. Maybe he would change his mind. Maybe it was just a test all along.

She struggled and cursed. Head jerking, body bucking. Bound at wrist and ankle. They shoved her forward and only when on her knees was she given an injection into the side of her neck. Karai snarled. She managed a hateful glare in both their directions before her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed forward onto her face. Only then did his master break, rushing forward to gather her into his arms. Leo could hear him murmuring in Japanese. The words of comfort that he'd only ever heard his father whisper to him and his brothers when ill or frightened. He was more than frightened now. But his father spared him hardly a glance as he returned to his place next to him, the girl cradled in his arms. The lump in his throat grew larger. It was getting hard to breathe. He wanted to ask to go home now. The words were on his tongue. Heavy and clumsy.

The soldier in the front spoke in a low, gravelly voice, "You have her, as the Shredder promised. Now . . ." he motioned to Leonardo with one hand.

Leo's eyes widened and his hands twitched, partially going for his katana before remembering that he stood there, free of his beloved weapons. Maskless and unclothed. Vulnerable and terrified. His hands dropped back to his sides.

There was a pause. A hesitation so tense and sharp that it made him inhale and hold his breath. His eyes snapped to meet his father's, pleading openly for him to change his mind. That it was only a test. That he'd passed and could go home. The words were hoarse, rough, and so cold; sounding so alien to Leonardo that he thought someone else had spoken them. Two words that shattered his life into an unrecognizable mass of broken shards.

"Take him."

He was engulfed by men in black before he could blink. Being dragged into the shadows while still too stunned to even command his feet to shuffle forward with any sort of dignity befitting a warrior. At this moment, he felt anything but. No. He felt lost and small and frightened. The world had betrayed him in the cruelest possible way. Pretense fell away as they approached the black vehicle. Struggling madly, he twisted. Reaching out into the expanse he shrieked, _"Father!?"_ before the blows began to fall upon him; again and again; viciously, with gleeful force; silencing him.

Splinter strode forward, his face a mask of anguish. "Stop. Stop this! You promised me no harm would come to him!"

The men laughed as they wrestled Leonardo's semi-conscious body into the van. One of the men held a video camera and spoke to it. A live feed through to the Shredder.

"We have him, Master. All is as agreed upon and planned."

Through the vehicles window and his blurred vision, Leonardo just caught a glimpse of his father's face, twisted with sorrow and regret. He saw him standing there, cradling his daughter in his arms. The price of gaining her: his son's life. And all he could do was watch as the form of his father grew smaller and smaller and all his darkest fears grew and grew until he was completely swallowed by them. Despair devoured him.

He'd been traded. A son for a daughter. In his moment of complete anguish, his mind corrected the thought_, No, a _freak_ for his daughter. _

Splinter watched the van pull away and disappear around the corner. He shifted his arms, bringing Karai up closer to his chest where his heart pounded violently. He prayed that his gambit would pay off. His plan to bring his daughter home in exchange for a day maybe two of his son's life. For there was no way he'd allow them to take his son from him. Despite his agreement. Despite his honor pack with Saki. Splinter ground his teeth together fiercely. He only wished that he could have given his son some indication of his plans. But in order for this to come across as authentic, as part of the negotiation, Leonardo could not have known.

"I swear, my son, I will bring you home."

* * *

**A/N:**I may post a follow up to this...maybe ...

p.s. does it ruin the magic to know I'm the anon that sent the reactionary prompt? XDD


	2. Chapter 2

**A Son for a Daughter - Chapter 2 **

He fought with them in the confined space, wrestling against elbows thrown and knees jamming into him. Minutes passed as the futile struggle went on in the back of the van. Finally, gasping for breath that refused to pull inside his squeezing chest, he fell still; limp against the seats and floor. The men laughed and cursed at him. Insulted and spat at him. Tried to shame him with insinuating taunts and cruel words. He understood most of what they were saying and hinting at. It was the things they were assuring him would happen that he _didn't_ understand which sent icy spears of fear through him. Above all else was the pulling sense of abandonment, dragging him down to drown in the waters of despair.

_He gave me up. He traded me for his daughter._

He would not allow the tears to fall, so they choked him instead. He flinched as one of the men rubbed the back of his shell. The gesture felt lewd and strangely humiliating.

Chuckling, the masked ninja said, "Time to meet your new daddy."

* * *

Splinter ran. Dashing through the tunnels in a blind determination to get Karai home where she belonged and start on his plan to rescue his son. The guilt tore at his stomach and heart. Rending any joy of being reunited with his long lost daughter to shreds. He knew it would be difficult. He knew it was risking much. But what father wouldn't risk so much to protect the ones he loved?

"Leonardo," he whispered it like a prayer. "I have not forsaken you."

His son, his beloved one, his prized pupil would need to be strong. Splinter believed in him. He knew he would endure whatever the Shredder had planned for him. He had to. He believed that the boy would not be killed on sight as Saki had assured him in return for the knowledge that Karai would not be harmed in any way. They were exchanged on an even basis. One child for another. One's life for the other. But the dread in his heart and the frantic terror clawing at his mind urged him to hurry. He had not a moment to spare.

When Splinter had received the message of a possible truce from his enemy, he scarcely believed it. It was too good to be true. But after several nonviolent attempts to contact him, Splinter finally gave into his curiosity. One night he slipped away, trepidation filling his heart, to meet with his old foe.

It was laid out and explained quite simply. Shredder's empire was expanding and the feud between their clans was something he wished to be freed from, once and for all. Splinter's heart was nothing but skeptical. And even with Saki's continued reassurances that this was no trickery, Splinter doubted. But then they had met again and again over a period of weeks in secrecy. Each time the story was the same with the Shredder taking no actions that could be considered aggressive or deceitful. Finally, Splinter made it clear that he would not be able to forgive the man for taking his daughter from him. After some consideration, Saki agreed to return Karai to her rightful clan. There was one catch. In doing so, the Foot Clan would be losing a valuable solider. A ninja of great skill and cunning. There would need to be an exchange to make up for this loss.

Splinter scoffed at the proposal, calling Saki's offer merely yet another way of bringing pain into his life. But that was when Saki added that his child would be cared for, taken in as his own son, trained and allowed to live in peace. Much like the rest of the Hamato clan. Karai was to be given the same protection. They would be bound by honor to adhere to the stipulations of their truce.

And so it was the old rat's turn to ruminate and come to a decision. And ponder it he had. Several weeks of meditating on the possibilities. Ah, but to have his daughter back. To have a second chance at knowing her, loving her. To see Tang Shen's spirit living on in her. To be able to reconnect, even if the possibility was slim, was too good to simply turn his back on.

In the depths of his heart, Splinter hoped and in the inner workings of his clever mind, he planned.

To Shredder he returned and accepted. The contract was agreed upon. Splinter signed his name to the paper, agreeing to the conditions they had worked out over the surreal span of weeks, all the while scheming his own plot of gaining his daughter and keeping his sons in one fell swoop. For the Shredder had assumed that Splinter would simply forgive the years of pain that he had caused him and his children all in the name of giving him peace of mind to continue in his slow conquest of the underground world he ruled. Splinter was no fool. And he would not so easily forgive.

Shredder wished for Leonardo to cut ties with Splinter completely and thus it was agreed upon that he would not know of their pact. He would only know that he was being exchanged. A son for a daughter. Splinter agreed to this as well, convincing himself that his son would forgive him the deception once he understood his motives. Leonardo would only suffer in this falsehood for a short time. Then Splinter would bring him home.

He would only need a day. Twenty-four hours. Just one day. And his family would be complete. Forever.

* * *

They brought him down a long hallway, through a set of double doors and into an elevator. The feeling in his stomach curdled and shrank, bounced and flipped with the motion. He thought he was going to be sick. One of the men had struck him in the mouth and his teeth had split his bottom lip. His tongue ran along the gash. The taste of blood was bitter. The pain centered him. They shoved him and led him down another long corridor to a much larger set of double doors.

They opened up to an enormous room. The rippling reflection of water along the dark walls danced all around him. With weak legs he moved forward. Men flanked his sides, moving him along with the occasional shove. Above on a raised dais sat the Shredder. Hidden mostly in shadow, Leo could only feel the presence of the man as he stared down at him from above. Leonardo felt his stomach turn to water; his legs, rubber. He wondered if this was the end of him. For surely they brought him here to execute him.

They came to a stop and someone kicked the back of his knee. He dropped forward onto his hands and knees. The Shredder stood up. He stepped down off the stairs. The armor he wore clinked softly with his movements. It was the only sound above his own racing pulse in his ears.

Keeping his head down, staring at the floor in front of him, Leonardo suppressed a shudder as he felt the Shredder's eyes roving over him. Without his weapons, pads and mask, Leonardo felt like a peasant child shaking before a king. The man clad in spikes and heavy armor made a deep sound in the back of his throat as though assessing what he saw and not feeling impressed with it.

"Hamato Leonardo," the Shredder said and it took all his strength not to flinch at the sound of his name coming out of the Shredder's mouth. "Stand."

Not seeing the point of defiance at the moment, he did as was told. He climbed to his feet. Hands clasped in tight fists to keep them from trembling.

"I was told that you are the leader. The best of your clan. The one whose skill and training surpasses the others. Is this true?"

Blinking, Leonardo gave the smallest of nods. He was the best student of the four of them, and Splinter had assigned him as leader. There was no point in denying any of that. But the thought of the praise he had striven for, the very reason he had always trained the hardest, to please his father, to prove to his father that he was good. Good enough. Good enough to love. It was all for nothing. His entire life had been to earn a love that was never meant for him, it seemed. The years of encouragement, tender moments of bonding, it all seemed empty and jaded now. It was all a lie.

_He never wanted me. I was a substitute for a daughter long thought dead._ The realization left him feeling light-headed and sick. As if he'd just awaken from a vivid and beautiful dream to a reality filled with pain and horror. A reality that he could not escape from no matter how badly he wanted to. Couldn't he just go back to dreaming? A lump formed in his throat as his eyes burned. He bit at the gash inside his mouth, flooding his tongue with blood. The sharp pain focused him.

_I will not cry. Not here. _

The Shredder stood in front of him, towered over him. Their eyes met and locked. Leonardo could only make out twin pools, fathomless and black.

"We will see." To the men around him, the Shredder said, "take him to the dojo."

Once again, Leonardo was engulfed by the ninja, pulling and yanking on him, roughly removing him from the chamber back into the hallway. A short trip in the elevator brought him to yet another hallway, to another large set of doors. He was doing his best to gauge where he was in order for a chance at escaping, but the corridors were all so similar. His racing heart sank. Even if he were to escape, where would he go? His father made it clear that he was disposable. Would it be wise to try to make for home? Would he only be handed back to the Foot once he arrived? The thought made any hope for attempting escape plummet.

The doors opened and he was ushered into a large training room. Men were gathered all around, crowded up against the walls. A few were perched upon the exposed pipes hanging above in the tall ceiling. Silence hung like a heavy blanket over the space. No one made a sound as the smaller group brought Leonardo to the center of the room. The men parted to let them through then moved back into place once more. Leonardo swallowed dryly. There were easily a hundred ninja gathered here. Some were fully in uniform while others had their masks off. All were silent. All were staring at him. His heart started to pound furiously. He never felt more exposed and helpless in his young life.

What were they going to do to him? Was he to fight them all? How long would he last? He clenched his jaw as he shoved away at the mounting panic rising within him. _Stay calm. You still have your honor, _he told himself. But it did little good to quell the tide of frantic terror clawing at his mind. His head whipped around as the sound of another set of doors opening reached him. The men opposite him parted to allow the Shredder to enter the center of the room.

He stood eyeing the small terrapin who stood shaking with eyes like saucers in his shadow. Then with care, the Shredder began striping himself of his armor. Each piece was handed to a man and taken away with gentle reverence. Shredder shed all of the plating, the spiked gauntlets, the heavy caplet over his shoulders, until finally he removed his helmet and face plate. He stood before Leonardo, in dark stockings, pants and a matching tank top. He stretched his arms back, expanding his chest, then crossed them in front of himself back and forth. The scarred and thick muscles rippled and bunched. He cracked his head from side to side, positioned his feet in a wide stance and brought his fists up.

Realization dawned on Leonardo like a blow to his stomach. The Shredder wanted to fight him. Leonardo fell into a defensive pose. Trembling hands curled into fists in front of him.

"Now we'll see how well your sensei has trained you."

* * *

Splinter burst through the turnstiles as Karai shifted in his arms, moaning softly, before falling still. Donatello jumped up from where he sat next to Michelangelo. Raphael stopped his pacing and turned to face his father. The three of them raced up to him, stopping a few steps away as if a physical, though invisible, barrier stood between them and their sensei. Splinter's eyes snapped from one to another before he turned to Donatello who had just finished wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. He opened his mouth to speak but Raphael cut him off.

"You did it," he said incredulously, "You really did it!" He strode closer to Splinter, his face a mask of fury and indignation. His shouting filled the room, "How could you!? How could you do this!? How could you do this to him?!"

Donatello pulled at the strap across his chest. "Sensei, I can't believe this. I th-th-thought you had a plan, maybe . . . _something_. I-I can't believe this."

"Where's Leo, Sensei?" Mikey asked, eyes round though free of tears. "You didn't really give him to the Shredder . . . I don't believe it. It's not true. Is it, Father?"

Raphael's flashing eyes went to the girl in Splinter's arms. He pulled his sais out and stepped forward, murder in his expression.

"I swear to god, I'm gonna-"

With one swift movement, Splinter laid Karai down on the couch and spun to meet his son before he could take more than a step in her direction. Raphael had no choice but to back up as Splinter crowded him back and back until his shell hit the wall.

"You will do _what_?!" Splinter roared at him.

Raphael sputtered, then moved to go around him, but Splinter blocked him, keeping him eye to eye, less than an inch from his face. Raphael gritted his teeth together. He fidgeted and tried to go around the other way. Splinter blocked him. Raphael growled in frustration. The tears spilled from his eyes. He struggled as his throat worked but no words came. Only a soft desperate, grating sound.

"You will do what?!" Splinter repeated, no less quiet; amber eyes bouncing between Raphael's.

_Kill her!_ His mind screamed. But on the outside, Raphael quailed before his father's dominance. His body shook violently as he warred with himself. He wanted to kill Karai. This was all her fault! He wanted to fight with Splinter and demand they go bring Leonardo back this instant. He wanted . . . he wanted Leonardo home. But his father . . . his brother . . .

The anguish he was feeling was too much. It was too big. He felt himself imploding with fury and rage and the unfairness of his brother being traded for a human girl who none of them even knew or liked for that matter. A girl that had tried to end their brother's life when she captured him and endangered each of them on more than one occasion. And now again, she was at the center of this misery and chaos. Raphael would do it. He would. He had to do _something_. The burning betrayal and fury he felt flared wild and nearly uncontrollable within him. But under the harsh stare of his master, the unrelenting gaze, he buckled.

He didn't want to feel this angry at his father. He didn't want to hate him. He didn't want to have to deal with this pain he felt. He . . . He just wanted his brother back. He turned his face away from Splinter's with a growling sob. His sais dropped to the floor with a clatter.

_"F-Father,"_ he choked out.

He jumped as he felt Splinter's hands cup each shoulder with a gentle touch. Splinter's shoulders slumped. A tremor went through him. Raphael's green eyes, glassy with tears, met his. His fright and sadness were reflected there.

"My son," he said in a voice laced with exhaustion and worry. "My sons," he amended as he turned, still holding Raphael's shoulders. His eyes fell on Michelangelo, clutching Donatello's arm for support. Both boys' faces were pale and drawn. Both had eyes round with fear and distress. Again, the guilt welled up within Splinter's chest. Again, he reassured himself that this would all be worth it once everything was said and done. He would have his family back once more. All of his children. They would be together as it was meant to be before the Shredder tore his world apart.

"We will bring Leonardo home. I have a plan." At the last word a collective exhale came from the brothers. Michelangelo and Donatello brightened immediately.

"I-I knew it," Donnie said to Michelangelo in a quivering voice, full of relief, but hoarse from crying.

"I know where they have him. He will be home this time tomorrow." He turned to face Raphael. His son was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as the tears continued to fall. Splinter squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "I promise."

"Will . . . Will he be okay, though?" Michelangelo asked the question that no one dared to utter.

Splinter dropped his head, fingers kneading Raphael's trembling shoulders, giving no answer.

Twenty-four hours. He could hold on. He had to.

* * *

**A/N:**Leave it to me to start a Drabble Collection only to fill it with stories that I need to expand on. XD Okay, so it'll probably be another chapter or two. I can't help myself. But I don't think you mind, do ya?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Be warned sweet readers, this chapter contains rough material. A lot of horrible things can happen within 24 hours. And I can't seem to write anything light and fluffy lately, so please consider this a staunch warning to sensitive readers. You may want to skip the second act of Leonardo's situation.

For those of you who enjoy it rough, well, read on and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

His head snapped back. His teeth clacked together. The bright flare of pain blinded him. Heels knocked against the mat as he careened backwards. The men surrounding him and the Shredder made no sound as the fight wore on. He was caught by the shell and shoved forward. The room spun and he felt the edges of his vision go frighteningly dark for a second. Leonardo gave his head a sharp shake, but it did nothing for his vision as his right eye was blinded by the blood pouring from a gash just above it. A line of spittle and blood hung from his swollen mouth as he stood trying to force air into his squeezing chest.

The fight had only just started, or had it been going on for hours? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that his legs were beginning to feel like rippling rubber bands and it was getting harder and harder to bring his hands up to block. They felt encased in concrete. Both forearms were dark and bruised to a point that every block sent a bolt of agony up through his shoulders and upper back. His legs sported overlapping bruises running from his thighs down to his calves.

He swerved as a neat kick swept by his face, missing it by an inch. His feet side-stepped and his body swayed, threatening to fall over, but he caught himself. Another swipe of the Shredder's left fist followed by his elbow in a sharp jab had Leonardo stumbling over his feet to avoid the blows, now basically running from the man. Not even defending. His father would be so ashamed if he saw this. The thought struck a bitter and painful chord in the battered boy's heart.

The Shredder possessed an inhuman speed. He seemed to anticipate every attack Leonardo sent his way. Managing to block all but a very few; knocking away his fists and feet like he was batting away a gnat. Every blow, strike and kick the Shredder delivered were utilized with utmost precision and carried out in staggering skill. He wasted no energy. His strikes were clean as they were powerful. He wasn't even breathing heavy. Leonardo's head whipped around, trying to get his bearings and determine where the Shredder was coming at him.

Again, he was in front of him. Leonardo gasped and had just enough time to cover his face with both forearms crossed. But it did little good. The mat rose up and smacked Leonardo in the back of his head as he fell again. Then again. Then once more as he just struggled to raise up onto his knees. The blow had him tumbling to the side.

He dimly felt the men push him with their feet back towards the center of the space. He could only roll onto his face with a groan. Slowly, he braced one hand, then the other onto the mat and tried to lift himself up. His arms quivered. He would not give up so easily. From the corner of his uninjured eye, he could just see the Shredder's feet pacing. Waiting for him to right himself. His elbows shook violently as he tried to push up from the mat; forehead resting on it. It was no good. He was too weak. His eyes fluttered closed as he collapsed back down to the mat. He swallowed the heavy flow of blood filling his mouth. It choked him and made his stomach roil in protest. Every breath hurt. He was sure his ribs were bruised if not broken on either side. He lay, panting and trembling on his stomach; every inch of his body throbbed and ached. His eyes rolled and refused to focus. The edges of his vision when he could see were getting darker by the second.

The Shredder stalked around him. With the back of one hand, he wiped the dribble of blood from his bottom lip. Leonardo had managed to connect more than once, but it seemed like every blow he landed was matched by several from the Shredder. Each more violent and painful than the last.

"If you can stand up, I will let you live . . ." he paused, one brow cocked, "as my pet."

Not much of an offer, but despite the pain, Leonardo was not ready to die, yet. His fingers worked and then with a grunt and a soft growl, Leo braced his hands under himself. Gathering the last frayed strings of strength that remained within him, he rose up on wobbling legs with his spinning head hanging low. But he stood.

"Very good. You live."

He swayed backwards and two ninja caught him.

The next thing he knew, he was being dragged down a dimly lit hallway and thrown like a sack into a room not much bigger than a closet. He fell against the wall and slid down on limp legs that folded underneath him, leaving a long line of red. His cheek rested on the rough stone. He braced one palm against the wall to steady himself. He stayed like that until his legs cramped and his back ached. Slowly, he pushed himself from the wall and twisted towards the narrow cot provided on the floor near him. He crawled to it and lowered his throbbing head down. His moment of respite lasting only enough time to get his rapid breathing down to shallow panting from the effort it took to move a few feet. Voices filled the room and the scrape of the door had him trying to open one swollen eye to see what was coming next for him.

He braced himself and tensed as the small space was suddenly crowded by several men. Nothing could prepare him for the cruelty the men had in store.

"Pick him up."

* * *

Karai moaned. Her head throbbed and there was an acidic taste in the back of her mouth. She screwed up her face and winced. One eye cracked open and once it stared at the ceiling for a moment, realization of where she was hit her. She bolted upright and her head swam to a point that had her nearly careening off the side of the cot she lay upon. Warm hands caught her. Steadied her with gentle pressure, easing her back down. Her eyes snapped up. Splinter gazed down at her.

"Miwa," he said softly and his eyes were glassy and bright.

Karai slapped his hands away. She snarled, "Don't call me that!"

Splinter bobbed his head. "So be it. I will call you by the name you recognize as your own. It was not the name you were given at birth, however."

She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him. She moved to cross her arms over her chest when her left arm caught and strained against a metal cuff secured around her wrist. She started and yanked at it. Splinter's hand rested on her wrist, stilling her movements.

"Do not struggle. You are restrained."

"So I am your prisoner," she spat.

But her heart was racing rapidly and the panic was not hidden in her eyes. She still reeled from what had been done to her. Her father, whom until hours ago, the man she considered her blood, someone she would have died for, someone she had loved with all her heart, had explained in no uncertain terms that he needed her services no longer. Her _services,_ as if she were a hired maid that he no longer had use for. He told her that she was to be given to the Hamato Clan, their sworn enemy to secure a truce.

Karai had laughed, thinking it was a joke. A cruel one, but a joke nonetheless. The Shredder had stared flatly at her. The laughter died in her squeezing throat. The fear clawed its way up her spine. His eyes were cold. Alien and distant. It was all true. She had shouted, complained and eventually, to her shame, she had begged him. Exclaiming her loyalty and her love. He was unmoved. It was as though she were speaking to a statue. Her words meant nothing to him. Her love even less so. And she had been given away like a doll no longer cherished by its owner. Thrown to the rats, literally.

"No, Miw- . . . Karai. Not so much, but I knew no other way to convince you to allow me to state my case . . ." Splinter trailed off. He was struggling, it was plain to Karai that this was not easy on the mutant. She chewed her bottom lip and waited for him to finish. "I wish no harm to come to you. And none shall, but you must remain calm and trust that I have no intention of hurting you."

She digested this. Heart racing along with her mind. If there was a way to prove her loyalty to her father, her real father, then maybe the answer lied here. Among these freaks. Perhaps all of this was merely a test of her dedication and commitment to the Foot Clan. In the back of her mind, Karai knew it was not so. Her father, no, the man who raised her to be a tool, nothing more, had made it clear that he held no sentimental connection with her. He had made it brutally clear that she was nothing to him while she begged for any sign that he loved her. That he ever loved her. The tears stung the backs of her eyes. The lump was solid and very real in the center of her throat.

But she could not surrender to this situation just yet. She had never been someone who gave into fate so easily. She rolled her face to the wall.

"Karai, you are my child. Stolen when you were only a baby. Stolen from your mother's dying arms."

There was a desperate note in his voice. A pleading underneath the desperation. Karai clamped her eyes shut tightly. A familiar pang struck her heart at the mention of her long deceased mother. A mother she had yearned for over the years. How dare this rat creature speak of her?

"Go _away_," she hissed.

Splinter hesitated. Then stood. He lifted a quilt and laid it over her body. A tremor went through her at the soft touch. He patted her shoulder. But she kept her face to the wall. Jaw clenched in stubborn refusal to be comforted.

"I am sorry about the restraint. I hope you will not be too uncomfortable. In time, it will not be this way."

He stopped speaking and Karai drew a shuddering breath, doing her best to steel herself against the tide of his gentle, reassuring words. His kindness felt like blows to her body and heart. She ached in a way that she'd never felt before. As though she had been beaten. But not at this rat's hands, no. Beaten by the man she once reverently called '_father'_. It hurt. It hurt too much. So she did what she always did when in pain: she lashed out.

"If you need anything. Please, just say so. I-"

"He will kill him," she interrupted, speaking to the wall. Splinter's mouth snapped closed. Karai slowly rolled her head to look at the old rat. He withered under her gaze; so resigned and level.

A memory sharp and painful pierced his mind. Tang Shen giving him a similar look. It was after his attempt at installing a large water garden on their property. After much arguing over where to place it and whether or not to hire men to complete the job, he had stubbornly plowed forward with his own plans. As days of work turned into weeks of frustration, he continued to refuse to listen to her advice. Determined to do it himself. When it all collapsed into a muddy ruin, she had looked at him like that; that knowing expression. She never said a word, only gave him that same, level, knowing look, as though she could see through his pride directly past it to his folly.

Karai went on, bringing him back to the present with a small gasp, and though her voice was soft it was laced with bitterness, "How could you do that to someone you claim to love?"

His voice wavered and came out much less confident than he intended, "I will rescue him. He will be fine."

Karai only stared at him for a while longer with that look. That uncanny mirror of the woman he loved with all his heart and soul, long passed from this world. That look that told him he was wrong. So terribly wrong. Splinter could bare it no longer. He backed up and fled from the room. From his daughter. And the ghost of memories from the woman he loved.

* * *

The room was tiled from floor to ceiling. Metal faucets stuck out in a long row just higher than his head if he were standing. They flung him down upon the hard surface. As he righted himself he was met with a blast of cold water, propelling him back, slamming him against the wall. Over the sound of the rushing spray, he could hear them laughing as they hosed him down. The water stung where it struck his bruises, biting his wounded flesh like a hundred tiny, razor-sharp teeth. He whimpered and eventually rolled himself into a fetal position, covering his face and head with his arms, pulling his knees up to his chest. Finally the assault ended, leaving him dripping and trembling with cold.

He was grabbed by the rim of his shell and spun around. Rough hands toweled him down. He struggled and fought against them as best as he could. But he was weakened from his beating. His growls echoed strangely in the room.

"Hold him down," one of them said.

He kicked as his legs were gripped and held, shoved with his shoulders as another grabbed his hands and held them above his head, sitting on his forearms, pressing his full weight down on his shoulders. His growling was cut short as a chop struck him across the throat. His body constricted and then shook with pain as he choked and struggled to breathe.

Dimly he was aware of his legs being spread apart and a man kneeling between his legs. It wasn't until the room fell strangely quiet, aside from his coughing and their shallow heavy breathing, and his tail was grasped and painfully yanked back, that the icy realization of what was about to happen struck him. He strained and struggled with renewed vigor as he fought to free himself. It did nothing but encourage them to be more aggressive. The blows rained down on him. The pain splintered up through his body. The humiliation smothered him.

The men switched places. He fought desperately and was pinned once more. His tears of rage and horror burned searing tracks down the sides of his flushed face. The alternating assault continued until each had taken a piece of him. He lay trembling and broken on the slick surface as they stood up and began chuckling and pushing at him until he rolled to one side.

They made to pick him up when he tackled one to the ground with a sudden cry of outrage and fury. He straddled the man and with eyes white with rage, he pummeled the man's face with his fists. When another wrapped his arms around Leonardo's throat, Leo fumbled and just managed to flip him with a snarl. He twisted and dove at another of his attackers. The ninja blocked and moved to wrap his hands around the young mutant's throat. Leonardo savagely snapped his jaws, like a wild animal, biting his hand and drawing blood. The man flailed and howled and struck him with fast jabs until Leo fell back, heaving and growling; mouth full of the man's bitter tasting blood.

The voice boomed like a thunderclap over and around him, filling the echoing space with sound too loud to his sensitive ears, "What is going on here?"

The men parted from Leonardo's supine form. For a heartbeat no one spoke or moved as the Shredder's eyes scanned the scene. The metal of his spikes and gauntlets gleamed in the light. Leonardo could barely squint into the room from the glinting blades.

One of the men broke the silence, the man he had bitten, "H-He attacked us, Master." He raised his bloody hand as proof.

The Shredder's eyes flashed from the torn appendage to Leonardo. He gestured at him and the men hoisted him up on wobbling legs. He shrugged his shoulders violently but fell still. Leonardo had no more strength to fight. He whimpered softly as the Shredder strode closer to him. The Shredder's eyes flicked to the trickle of blood trailing down the inside of both his trembling thighs. If there was any sympathy in his new Master's gaze, Leonardo did not see it.

"You will learn your place, pet," the Shredder said.

His head jerked to the man on Leonardo's left. The man quickly wrapped his arms around Leo's elbow, holding his arm out in a stiff angle. Leonardo's eyes flitted from his exposed arm to the Shredder just as he adjusted his stance. He only had the chance to whimper out a frightened cry as the gauntlet flashed, coming down to strike through his flesh and bone as neatly as slicing through a melon.

His scream bounced and echoed through the room. It was the last thing he heard as his world went black.

* * *

**A/N: I said a lot can happen in 24 hours, didn't I?**


	4. A Son for a Daughter Ch 4

**A/N: **Dedicated to RadiumCandy, a.k.a. Scaly-and-Redhead - you know why! Please check out her stuff as she is a wonderful writer with stories filled with beautiful imagery and skill.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"Why can't we just go now," Raphael said, his voice was a barely contained shout. He paced outside of the huddled group; back and forth in front of the stove. A ball of raw nerves and brittle temper.

Donatello and Michelangelo's eyes shot to Master Splinter where he stood over the table, hands braced against the surface with hunched shoulders; eyes glued to the schematics that Don had tediously printed and taped together to form a large, crumpled map of the building serving as Foot Headquarters. Each boy had matching circles under their eyes. The coffee pot held the remaining dregs of Donatello's thick brew. He had finished off his fifth cup only moments ago. Mikey's jittery fingers toyed with the side of a caffeinated drink, spinning the can around and around and around in an endless circle. It was nearing two a.m. The clock above the sink ticked away the minutes, bleeding into the hours; each one seemed more distorted and abnormally lengthened that the previous.

He knew it would take some time in gathering the information he needed. Donatello was normally quick with accessing information but this task required hacking through several systems and firewalls. He had gotten to the wrong files several times and had to backtrack and begin fresh. Much to the mounting frustration of his brothers. Raphael had disrupted further progress when he and Donatello got into a heated argument over the time it was taking, ironically, wasting much more time had he kept his temper in check and his mouth closed. Michelangelo intervened and the situation erupted. Tempers flared where patience dwindled. Tears of frustration and fury were shed. Finally, Splinter had calmed them enough to have them each refocused on menial tasks while Donatello went back to his search for the information he so desperately required.

His mind raced along with his heart. His eyes scanned the thin lines on the paper separating the floors of the building, the walls of the different rooms. He had been inside only a few times and that was several weeks ago. He had done his best to memorize the location of certain rooms that he'd glimpsed. Upon casual conversation with his mortal enemy he had learned which floor served as cafeteria and where the training room lay for the many ninja employed by the Foot. It was a starting off point. But in order to get his son home without costing the lives of anyone else, he needed more concrete details. A dread slinked through his stomach. One fear out of many spoke in his mind, _What if they had taken him immediately to another location?_ Splinter shook his head. No. Leonardo had to be there. _But there was the possibility that he'd been taken to another location_, the treacherous voice pressed. Master Splinter straightened and glanced up, a startled look on his face as his focus returned on his sons. Each of them stared at him with open anticipation and wide eyes. He'd been so deep in thought he only vaguely registered that his temperamental son had spoken. He had no idea what was said.

"He asked you why we can't leave now," Donatello supplied.

Splinter gave a brief shake of his head. "There is no way we can infiltrate at this time. The patrols will be coming in throughout the city. Soldiers and ninja, gang members and other factions working with the Shredder congregate and are most active throughout the night."

"Wait, how do you know?" Mikey asked as he sat back in the chair.

"In my negotiations with the Shredder, I was allowed safe passage through some of the compound."

The three stared at him in shock. They exchanged uncomfortable glances and Raphael stared at the floor. The idea that their father had been meeting with the Shredder behind their backs felt too closely like betrayal. Each shifted where they stood or sat. Mikey swallowed audibly.

Splinter clarified, "During various times of the night, as I arrived and exited at different times, I marked the level of activity. This is why we must wait until mid-morning. There will be almost no one there aside from a sparse collection of guards which will be no match for us. Then it is only a matter of locating your brother and bringing him home."

Raphael crossed his arms and dropped his forehead into one hand. He rubbed his forehead furiously.

"So, in the meantime, what?" he said from beneath his hand, voice thick with emotion.

The sound of it set Donatello's bottom lip quivering and Mikey looked swiftly between his brothers before resting his gaze on his father. His eyes were huge in his head. Pleading.

"We will plan our strategy. Raphael, we must be patient."

Raphael made a choked sound, somewhere between a snort and a derisive chuckle. He turned around and slammed one fist into a cabinet door, splintering the wood and splitting his knuckles. He mumbled a hoarse curse as Donatello jumped up to see the injury. Raphael growled and pushed past him. Donatello wheeled around.

"That's great, Raph. Bang yourself up so you'll be useless by the time we get there."

Raphael spun and Mikey dove into him as he moved to tackle the turtle in purple. Splinter loomed over them suddenly and pulled Michelangelo off of his brother as they grappled, growling and yelling.

"Enough! Save your energy!"

Mikey stumbled backwards and wiped his snout with the back of one hand. He stared miserably at them each in turn. Raphael sat up, resting his arms on his bent knees. The knuckle on his right hand stood out red and slightly swollen. They fell into an uneasy silence.

"We must remain calm. We must store our strength for the task ahead of us. Center our minds and focus."

Raphael jumped up to his feet. "That's hard to do when we don't even know if . . ." he bit off his sentence, unable to complete the terrible thought aloud. He clamped his mouth shut tightly and stared with an almost defiant expression on his face. Daring his father to chase away his fears.

Master Splinter rested a hand on Raphael's trembling shoulder. "We must have faith in him, Raphael. We must trust that Leonardo is being careful and wise while under the enemy's roof. I do not doubt he is . . . frightened and confused. But he is ninja. He is your leader. He will know how to survive." Splinter paused, allowing his words to have a chance to sink in. They made their impact as the level of tension in the room dwindled. However, his own words spoken did very little to quell the growing voices of fear in his mind. His face turned from Raphael who's eyes were cast aside, head lowered, to the lab where Karai currently lay handcuffed to the metal frame of a cot. Her words, stated so calmly and with absolute certainty came back to him, chilling his blood and weakening his knees:

_He will kill him._

* * *

The light hurt his eyes. Cracking them open by millimeters only to have them water and blink rapidly, Leonardo tried again to open his eyes. The sound of footsteps, murmured voices, spoken in low, repeating tones, beeping and whirring washed over him. He turned his aching head to one side and felt himself swim as a wave of dizziness hit him with the simple motion. Slowly, his vision came into focus despite the harsh glare of the lights around him and his mind deciphered the clues presented. He was in a lab. His eyes snapped open wide and he moved to sit up. Abruptly, the action was halted by a leather band running across his chest. Panic flared.

Along with his full consciousness, the pain returned to his nervous system and that too, blinded him for a moment. His chest and sides ached, his head throbbed, and there was a burning, sharp pain between his legs, inside of him, but what stood out the most was the way his left hand cramped and shot agonizing pain up through his arm. He tried to move his fingers to see if he'd broken his wrist and if that was the root of the terrible discomfort he was experiencing. But he couldn't seem to feel his fingers, try as he might to flex them.

He grunted with effort and raised his head to see why he couldn't move his hand. His eyes trailed down the length of his arm. The length that ended just below his elbow in a thick bandage. A soft desperate sound creaked from his throat. He blinked rapidly, thinking he was not awake, apparently he was in the midst of some horrifying nightmare where he was missing part of his left arm and hand. He quickly glanced to his other arm, his palm faced up, fingers curled, the arm blackened with bruises, but whole, then back to the missing appendage. The bandaged stub of his arm jerked with a sickening reality. This time a choked sound came from the back of his throat through his nose. His head fell back against the hard surface of the table he lay upon. He pinched his eyes closed. Panting, he squirmed and tried again to raise up. The leather strap held him in place.

_It isn't real. This isn't happening. Wake up. Wake up. Please, wake up._

"That which is known as Shredder's pet has regained that which is known as consciousness, Kraang."

The familiar voice sent a wave of fresh terror through him. His body broke out in a cold sweat. A sharp pinch had his eyes snapping open. Two of the robotic men gazed down at him with alien, pink glowing eyes. One of them held up a syringe. It was full of blood. The other raised what looked like a small stainless steel saw.

"Kraang wishes to extricate that which is known as internal organs from that which is known as mutant turtle for Kraang's scientific advancements."

The other robot set the syringe down and squeaked and chirped before answering, "Negative. Kraang is prohibited. That which is known as the Master will take that which is known as Kraang's ass and skewer it upon that which is known as Master's gauntlets. As was done to Kraang when Kraang disobeyed Kraang's master."

The one speaking gestured across the room and Leonardo couldn't help but turn his red-rimmed gaze to see one of the alien globs mounted on a spiked pole fastened to the floor. A grim reminder that the Master did not trifle with defiant or disobedient aliens. Leonardo swallowed dryly at the gruesome sight.

"Kraang has made that which is known as an excellent point." He squeaked and placed the saw to the medical table next to the cot Leonardo laid on. The other one chirped.

The robot crossed the room and turned around, in his metal hands he held up a large jar filled with gray colored liquid. "Kraang has sufficient material to conduct that which is known as scientific research. As promised by that which is known as Kraang's temporary Master."

The other nodded. "This is that which is known as true. It will suffice."

Once again, he could not help himself. His wide eyes darted to see what the alien was talking about and his gaze fell upon the severed remains of his left hand within the jar. The memories rushed back then.

His father exchanging him for Karai; the sound of his voice as he told the men to take him away; the fight with the Shredder, the pain; the tiles of the bathroom as he scrambled for shelter from the blast of the icy water; the men's hands on him; pinning him down; gripping his tail, pulling it away from where it was tucked in terror, protecting his tender flesh; the moment he realized what they meant to do to him; the shame, the burning humiliation; their laughter; their bodies penetrating him; hurting him in a way he'd never been hurt before; then finally his fury and attempt at revenge for what they had done and Shredder's entrance to the room. The gleam of his blades, blinding him. The fright as he realized what his punishment would be. And then before he could shame himself further with pleading for mercy; the flashing blades coming down; cutting through flesh and bone.

A tremor went through him and he cried out in fright and horror. He jerked and thrashed against the leather belt holding him. He gave another strangled cry as he flailed uselessly against the strap. His chest heaved. The bile, burning and sour, rose up. He was going to be sick.

_"No! Oh god!" _he croaked between incoherent groans. There was no point in crying for help, he knew, somewhere in the back, rational, stoic calm of his mind, he understood this, but he could not stood the pleading now, coming far too late for anything to be done. _"No! Please! No! Help me! H-Help me!"_

"Kraang subdue that which is known as Master's pet."

The robot shell of a man pressed down on his forehead, holding him pinned as he felt another pinch in the side of his throat, just below his jaw. He growled but the sound was weak and came out as more of a wavering whimper than anything intimidating. Ice flowed into him where the needle deposited the amber colored liquid he'd glimpsed from the corner of his eye. His limbs slackening in their struggling, the anxiety attack ebbing away, though the searing pain surging through him remained. Whatever they had just given him had stolen his strength without dulling any of his suffering. Everything suddenly felt too heavy to move. He could barely turn his head.

Tears stung his eyes and burned tracks down his bruised cheeks as he felt his lips tingle and then go numb. Then his face. Then the insidious tendrils of numbness worked down the front of his throat and it was suddenly hard to breathe. Panic flared within him. He started to shake violently. Pressure in his head built. His chest heaved as his lungs tried to pull air into him. His body jolted as it seized. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth in the back of his mouth creaked and popped, nearly cracking from the force. He bit the side of his tongue as his jaw tightened. Bitterness coated his throbbing tongue. Pink-tinged foam rose up in the corners of his mouth and spilled over the side of his cheeks.

"Kraang, that which is known as Master's pet is having that which Kraang feared."

The bot across the room turned. "Kraang is unclear in comprehending that which Kraang is reporting to Kraang. Clarify."

Leonardo's body bucked. The table jumped. His head slammed into the metal table. A grinding sound was coming from his throat. The robot beeped in surprise and rushed over.

"Kraang, that which is known as Master's pet is having that which is known as a reaction. Administer that which is known as counter agent."

The other Kraang stood for a moment, the lights flashing as it processed what it was ordered to do. Leonardo's convulsions continued.

"Affirmative."

Several long seconds passed before the needle was inserted into his throat. Leonardo was too numb to feel it at all. But the tingling eased and with a great gasp he was able to gulp in the stale air of the lab, filling his lungs before exhaling in a forceful burst. It was the sweetest thing he ever tasted. He took in another deep breath and this one was exhaled as a broken sob. His body quivered and jumped as the after effects of the reaction continued to slowly abate. But the terrible pressure between his eyes, the pounding of his racing heart in his ears slowed and faded.

He was vaguely aware that the bots had unfastened him from the table. They moved his legs over the side and took his whole arm in hand, moving him to stand. Trembling and still partially in shock, he clung to the Kraang's arm like a child clinging to an adult as he is about to go up an escalator for the first time. The weight of his body came down onto his toes then the balls of his feet. His knees buckled and he immediately collapsed onto the floor. Pain lanced up from his abused bottom. His stomach roiled and he retched, barely holding onto his composure.

As he struggled to regain his breath, his chin was lifted and a collar was snapped in place around his neck. He was then pulled and dragged towards the door before he was able to climb to stand on wobbling legs that felt like they were made of jelly.

He did his best to walk on his own using the robots flanking him as a makeshift crutch as he leaned first from one Kraang then to the other, cradling his bandaged arm close to his body with his other hand. Each movement, each step brought the tide of pain, crashing through him, ebbing back only to return with more force, making him whimper and whine much like the animal he was being treated as. If he wasn't so completely exhausted he would have been ashamed of himself for his weakness.

He tried not to focus on the shame of being led by a leash and collar like a dog. He tried not to think of the way his bottom hurt when he walked, causing him to limp with each step. He tried not to think of the men's hands on him. Their bodies _in_ him. Leonardo made a soft choked sound. The bile rose as his stomach rolled and flipped in revulsion. He closed his eyes and centered himself. Desperately, he sought some thought to comfort him in his darkest hour, but the image of Master Splinter standing next to him with Karai in his arms filled his mind, the sound of his father's voice as he said, _Take him_, blotted out everything else. His feet staggered as his head lulled back. He was on the ground, being dragged before the pain in his missing limb being crushed beneath his weight snapped him back to reality. The Kraang tugged on the leash, knocking him once more onto his shoulder; turning to shield his severed arm from more pain. He grunted and groaned. His legs scrambled to come beneath his body, shook as he climbed to stand before being yanked off his feet again.

Swaying, still cradling his arm close to his chest, shoulders hunched, and head lowered, he was brought before the Shredder. The Kraang led him up to stand directly in front of the demon of a man's throne. Then they eased back into the shadows, their circular eyes glowing like monstrous beacons as their bodies vanished into the dark. Those twin circles of alien light the only sign that they remained before each turned and left the room. Leonardo's knees knocked into each other as he quailed before his new master. Alone with him for the first time.

"I hope you have learned your lesson, child."

Leonardo gripped his arm and pressed it closer to himself. His eyes were fixed on the ground between the Shredder's feet. The room seemed to grow and expand around him. The vastness complimented by the rippling lines of the water's current beneath the glass below. Never before had he felt this alone. This small. This frightened. Even standing in the valley of the towering skyscrapers of down town New York was nothing compared to the godlike presence of the man looming above him. More than ever he just wanted to go home. The homesickness he felt in that moment was matched in its agony only by his missing hand.

"Answer me."

Leonardo started. His eyes blinked as his throat worked. "Y-Yes," he forcibly stammered in a quiet voice.

"Your Sensei has abandoned you. It was negotiated and agreed upon. The old rat signed his name to the contract declaring that you are now _my_ property. You belong only to _me_."

Leonardo twitched and did his best not to show the Shredder how much it hurt to hear the words. But even more painful, the fact that he believed every word being uttered.

"Understand that you live only at my discretion. The men are not kind, as you have learned."

Leonardo flinched.

"It is only the beginning of what lays ahead of you."

Now Leonardo's slight trembling turned into violent shaking. His teeth chattered in his aching jaw. His bowels turned to icy water.

"However, as long as you stay within my good grace, your life will continue and . . ." here he paused, "You will not be touched again."

Leonardo froze. For the first time, his eyes snapped up to meet his new master's. Twin pools of obsidian bore into his, seeing him, all his shame, his degradation and defeat, seeing past that into his quailing soul. By inches, the Shredder leaned forward in his seat, lowering his head and spreading his knees wider, gripping the armrests of his chair.

"As long as you obey. As long as you do not defy me. And you will obey me, will you not?"

Bottom lip quivering, Leonardo nodded once, sharply, hating himself bitterly for being so weak. He should be choosing death over this. There was no honor here. Miserable, he stood where he was, trembling from head to foot as the Shredder reached out and eased him closer, taking him by the shaking shoulders and pulling the young mutant between his thighs, muscular and hard like granite. A slick tension hung between them. A cloying presence of something intimidating and evil, something . . . _lustful_ filled the air. Leonardo had felt something close to it, only not as powerful, for the first time in his life in the tiled bathroom earlier. His stomach twisted and sank. He swallowed thickly.

"I did not hear your answer."

"Y-Yes," Leonardo croaked.

"Yes, _Father_," the Shredder corrected, taking one finger and placing it under Leonardo's chin, forcing his face up to meet him eye to eye. The hunger that Leonardo saw within made him blanch. He shrunk further into himself. The Shredder gave his chin a slightly aggressive shake as he waited for Leonardo's response.

"Y-Yes, F-Fath-er," Leonardo whispered and his voice cracked.

* * *

**A/N: Whoa boy.** Who am I kidding? I bumped this bad boy up to an M rating. Though I'm almost done with it. And it won't be nearly as graphic as I, Alone.

And if that anxiety attack that Leonardo experienced before his seizure seemed authentic, you can thank IncredibleDancingBetty! I tip my hat to you, my friend! Thank you for helping me reach the level of authenticity that I crave for my fics.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Karai shifted. She groaned and rubbed her forehead with a finger and thumb. Her opposite wrist was red and chafed where it had strained against the metal of the handcuff. She had kicked the blanket from her body that the rat had covered her with and now it lay on the floor in a wrinkled heap. It was the most defiant act she could manage in her state. The cuff allowed her to sit up if she wanted to and she had tried to contort her body in every possible direction to reach anything that might possibly help her get out of there. All her efforts were wasted and now she lay, exhausted, sore and pissed at everyone alive.

Time ticked on, minute after mind-numbingly boring minute, but it served to temper her earlier fury, eventually leaving her with a dull seething in the pit of her heart. There was nothing else to do but brood on the situation she found herself in. She could hear the voices of her captors in the other room but couldn't make out the context of their mutterings. Her keen mind worked over the past few weeks, trying to decipher if she had done something wrong to deserve such a punishment by her father. Nothing came to mind. Nothing. Nothing had changed. Despite her loyalty, her sacrifice and her love . . . no, she shook her head. Love wasn't important. Love was for the weak.

How many times had the ideas of empathy, sympathy and caring been sneered at by her father? How many lessons were driven home that emotions other than hatred for your enemy, the desire to vanquish your foes and seize your spoils, belonged only to the weak. Weak minds, weak wills. The world was full of lambs. Lambs that bleat in the night, that claim the virtues of kindness and love should be admired. The Oroku Clan were the wolves destined to devour them. She huffed as her heart constricted painfully.

A thought took shape. One that seemed implausible and yet, her world as she had known it had been swept out from under her feet in a matter of hours. What couldn't make sense, seemed all the more real, now.

_ Is that why he turned me away? Because I loved him?_

But her thoughts were interrupted as a shadow fell over the doorway. Someone lingered just inside the frame. She nestled deeper into the soft mattress; folding one arm over her torso, she waited. A gentle tapped at the wooden frame made her roll her eyes.

"What do you want?" she spat.

Into the room crept the orange clad turtle. She scanned her memory for him as an enemy but could only recall him in the background of her battles with his brothers. Come to think of it, he and the purple clad brother never seemed too enthused to fight her or her men. She decided he was a coward. That was the reason. Her father had told her that these freaks did not understand honor, or loyalty or fealty to one's own clan. She shifted slightly where she lay. All her memories of her father's teachings had suddenly become . . . jaded by the events of the past twenty-four hours. She wondered if things would ever go back to how they were. Something told her it wouldn't. Not after this. This betrayal cut too deep.

Her eyes dropped. In his hands was a tray. On the tray, a bowl of something that steamed and two pieces of toast. The smell of strawberry jam had her mouth watering. She hadn't eaten the day before and her stomach was a mess of knots the day before that. Now that she had spent a night of restlessly being forced to relax, she found she was very hungry. She turned her lip up in feigned disgust and faced the wall without comment.

"Master Splinter wanted me to bring you some breakfast. It's pretty hot right now, though, you might want to wait a bit before you eat any."

He cast around and then using his foot, hooked the leg of a chair from the work table propped up against the far wall and dragged it across the room to the cot. It made a long screech as it scratched its way along the hard surface.

Karai's face snapped back to glare at him for the racket he was making. Mikey shrugged and chuckled softly. The humor did not quite meet his eyes. Now that she was looking closer at him, it appeared that he had not slept. There were dark circles under his eyes and his lids were red-rimmed and tired looking. He plopped down on the chair and offered her the tray. She eyed it warily. The bowl was full of oatmeal. It glistened with a hefty dose of sugar where it melted into a glaze from the heat of the warm oats. She shot him a suspicious look.

"It's not poisoned. C'mon, do you really think we'd go through all this trouble just to, uh, kill you," his sentence lost strength as he spoke it and Karai saw his face go several shades of dusty green before it settled on a faintly blanched color. She felt a pang of something then for him. Sympathy, maybe. Angrily she pushed the offending emotion away. She grabbed the edge of the plastic tray and slammed it down on her lap. The bowl jumped and slid to one side and toppled, spilling hot oatmeal onto her stomach. She hissed in pain.

Mikey jumped up and scooped the hot cereal into his palm, scraping it free from the thin material of her top with his fingers, rescuing her flesh from further pain. Then he quickly looked around for somewhere to throw it, doing a little hopping dance on the balls of his feet, before finally popping it into his mouth. He pinched his eyes closed and then swallowed with a grimace. When he opened his eyes, they watered severely.

Karai heard a strange sound. A bubbling almost tinkling sound. It wasn't unpleasant as much as shocking. She pressed her free hand to her mouth, realizing the sound she just heard had come from her body. She stared with wide eyes into the middle of the room. Had she just . . . just . . . no. There was no way. There was no way that Oroku Karai had just giggled. The kunoichi had never giggled in her life, at least, not in living memory. And yet. Her eyes darted to the mutant boy as he slowly sat back down in the chair. He was smiling at her, but his sky-blue eyes remained sad.

"Told ya it was hot," he said with a forced chuckle.

Karai dropped her hand from her mouth. She gave a nod to the room, but kept her eyes averted.

Just then Donatello strode into the room. He stopped suddenly behind where Michelangelo was sitting. The look on his face was surprise and momentary confusion as though he had forgotten that she was being held there. Michelangelo twisted around to face him.

Donatello fidgeted then stepped sideways towards the table where Mikey had retrieved the chair from. He stretched his long body up onto tip toe and pulled a first aid kit from a cabinet above the table. Then he looked around, opening and closing cabinet doors until he finally just stood with his head lowered as if he was deep in thought over the small box in front of him. His shoulders were hunched.

Karai glanced at Michelangelo who sat watching his brother in silence. But his body nearly thrummed with some emotion that she couldn't place. Anxiety or . . . worry . . . fear? She picked up her spoon and dragged it through the thick oats before her eyes rose again to see Donatello still standing there. The sound of him sniffing was quickly replaced with him clearing his throat. Mikey was out of his seat in a blur of movement. He crossed the room in scurried strides and immediately put his arm around his brother's shell. He was much shorter than the purple clad turtle, so the taller one twisted and crouched down to receive the comfort his younger brother was giving him.

Karai sat in stunned silence as she watched Michelangelo murmur to his brother and pat his shell reassuringly. The taller one embraced him and she heard him mutter something back with a shake of his head. She just caught Mikey saying something about Leonardo being okay.

A knot of something that felt suspiciously like guilt tied itself into a bundle in the pit of her stomach. She stabbed the spoon into the center of the thick oatmeal. It remained upright. As rigid and unfeeling as her father stood when she had pleaded and begged for him to reconsider what he was about to do. Karai chewed her lip and found she could not tear her eyes away from the two brothers who were supposed to know nothing about family or loyalty or trust.

* * *

Master Splinter paced between the candles, staring blankly at one then the other. He turned and set his gaze upon the building schematics once more; going over in his mind the details of their rescue. His claw tapped unconsciously on the spot that he felt strongest that Leonardo would be held. He was under no delusion that his son would be treated with the same dignity that the other soldiers within the clan were; being given access to the compound's dormitory floors. No. His son would most likely be held in what consisted of a long hallway set off on either side by rooms not much bigger than a broom closet: the detention floor. He clenched and unclenched his jaw.

_He will kill him._

Karai's words echoed with chilling effect through his mind. He could not succumb to the fear. He had to be strong. For Leonardo and for the rest of them. He had to remain calm and confident. He had to trust that his son had behaved properly and wisely under the circumstances. That he did nothing foolish to draw any further unwanted attention to himself. Again, he regretted not giving him some indication of what was expected. He had adhered to that part of the bargain in steely honor-bound resolve. He wanted to prove that he had his honor intact. And now he bitterly regretted his arrogance and damned pride. What did it matter to a man like Saki if he maintained his humanity, his nobility, even after being turned into a rodent? In one swift movement, Splinter sent the map, the pens and papers flying from the table. They fluttered to the ground without much of a noise. A soft sound alerted him that he was not alone. He spun.

Raphael stood, fists at his sides. The expression on his face was one of knowing. And condemnation. He did not need his son's silent judgment. He carried enough of his own in his heart.

"What is it?"

"You said we could leave at ten."

Splinter's weary eyes shot to the clock on the wall. The wall that held the salvaged bookcase where his few and treasured items from a previous life mingled with trinkets from the life he endured. He moved as if in a dream across the room. His eyes skipped over the painted rock that Donatello had given him one year for Father's Day, the bunched feathers tied with a yellow ribbon that Michelangelo had gathered, collected and presented to him, the crude but lovingly made clay figure that Raphael had worked on to represent a child and father sitting together. They rested on the small cardboard sword that Leonardo had carefully cut out and painted; along the blade in meticulously inked calligraphy was the word 'Honor'. He knew on the other side was inked 'Father'. His throat tightened. It was propped next to the framed photo of his original family; the beautiful Tang Shen cradling a swaddled Miwa on her lap. His eyes burned. He braced two hands on the shelf for support as the edges of his vision turned to swirling black circles.

"Can we go?"

Splinter glanced up at the clock. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed. The time he knew he would need to plan and organize his sons. To wait until the time was most advantageous for an attempt at infiltrating the building with the lowest amount of risk. It was time. He looked over his shoulder at his son, fidgeting impatiently where he stood. Hands now resting on the hilts of his sais.

"Yes."

* * *

He lost track of time at one point. Lost consciousness at another. Was pulled from the blissful nothingness back into the world of nightmares made real. A soft frown puckered his sweat soaked brow, crusted with blood and other fluids. Sticky and thick. Tried to remember who he was, who he used to be. But the thought was too painful so instead he tried to piece together and list in his mind the atrocities that he'd endured. Craving some kind of lucidity for some pathetic sense comfort. But it was difficult. For he blanked out part of the night. He couldn't help it. His mind simply decided to cut that which was too much for him to handle with any sort of rational composure. Couldn't remember what happened in any sequential order.

The long hours between his delivery to his new master until the dawn stretched out and twisted into an everlasting spiral of immeasurable terror and hurt. He recalled fighting. He remembered his severed arm being cruelly twisted, fingers digging into the end until he screamed himself hoarse. But he struggled. Despite his terror ice cold in his gut, he did his best to withstand the assault. He remembered that. Elbows and knees striking pale scarred flesh. Fists and fingers driving against unyielding muscle and sinew, hard bone withstanding blows without a flinch. Pulling at hair, shoving at shoulders, futile, exhaustive effort met by peals of laughter; throaty and rich. A howl that may or may not have come from his own throat as he was forced down; legs pried apart.

A tremor went through him. It had hurt. So much. He thought he'd go mad from it. It was hurting now. Every part of his body shared in the agony. Nothing was left intact. Nothing except his eyes. The Shredder liked his eyes, wanted to look into them, so he was careful not to batter them into swelling shut. Forced him to meet his gaze time and again during . . . His flesh lay in ribbons, crimson and oozing, the edges black with bruising.

Now that he'd tried to recall what had been done to him, he wanted it to stop. His chest heaved and every breath was a separate isolated agony. _Please stop._ But the images continued to flash through his mind's eye. He remembered falling, being thrown down, trying to crawl with only one arm, being caught by the ankle, kicking. Growling. Snarling like a cornered animal. Biting. He ran his swollen tongue slowly against the back of his teeth. He could still taste the blood. It only served as yet another way his master had infiltrated his body.

His red-rimmed eyes had no more tears left to shed. So he lay there in the filth that his body was immersed in. In the Shredder's private chamber. On his master's bed. Unable to stop the visions of his torment from filling his mind. The shameful sound of his voice calling him _Father_ and the Shredder's gleeful laughter echoing in his ears.

* * *

**A/N:** *whispers* my Leo . . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The breeze was warm, through the wide openings, rippling over his robe, filling his sensitive nose with the scent of motor oil and fuel. The hood hung over his eyes, revealing his nose, twitching with nervous energy. But also sensing any unseen soldiers or humans. The parking garage gave Master Splinter and his sons enough shadows to dart between until reaching the particular maintenance door they had found on the maps of the building. This led to a narrow hallway. An underground passage between the unassuming garage to the main compound.

They came across no one as their feet ghosted across linoleum. As expected the corridors were empty. The Foot's hub of activities mainly happened in the hours that found most people dreaming. It left the building hollow and near empty during the morning hours as Splinter had planned. They stopped outside a doorway, Master Splinter closed his eyes and brought to mind the schematics that he'd spent the night memorizing. Beyond was a stairway. He cracked open the door and Raphael and Donatello squeezed past him. Then with a glance over his shoulder he slipped inside. The door clicked behind him.

The boys turned their anxious faces to him. Eyes full of questions and unspoken fears.

"Down. To the lower floor. Where the holding cells are past the cafeteria and supply rooms."

They crept and scurried; having to press up against the corner of a doorway only once as a small group of men entered the cafeteria, talking in low casual voices about food orders and supplies coming in from Japan. Splinter's whiskers twitched. They waited a moment, then another and were off. Through more hallways, similar in layout, but growing more unkempt as though the floors were not washed with the same regularity as the others. They turned to a corridor that ended with a set of metal double doors.

Donatello dashed forward, he tried the handles. They turned without a sound. He reached into his pack and pulled out a device that at first glance looked like a revolver. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. A soft pop was heard and a ball of black paint speckled with silver to, at first glance, mimic the sight of lost connection on a television screen. He blotted out the camera up in the near corner. Quickly, he slipped in and repeated blocking out the camera positioned in the far corner. He motioned for his father and brother to enter and the two dashed in. Splinter ran about from door to opposite door, pulling open the sliding latch and peering inside.

"Anything?" Don asked.

"Leo," Raphael whispered as he followed Splinter's frantic searching at the other end. Donatello peeked out through the double doors as they searched for his brother, keeping an eye open for anyone. He fidgeted and continued to dart his eyes from the interior of the room to the hallway beyond.

"Hurry," he muttered, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Finally, Raph started and Splinter was instantly at his side. He peered through the narrow window to see not his son as first hoped, but a soldier, shirtless with his back to them; hanging from his bound wrists from the center of the room's ceiling. His back was a mess of scars, old and fresh, still dripping. Raphael and Splinter exchanged looks. Slowly, Splinter reclosed the window latch.

"Where is he?" Raph hissed.

Splinter's mind worked furiously to think above the roaring of his pulse in his ears and the screaming panic that was flailing at the edges of his reason. They could not have taken him somewhere else. It just couldn't be. They'd have to continue searching to be sure, either way. Raphael grabbed his arm, his face was desperate.

"Where is he?" he repeated.

Splinter shook his head and turned. Donatello tensed and spun. "Two," he said quietly and braced himself.

"We'll have our answers now."

* * *

Karai sat with her arm crossed over her stomach, watching Michelangelo juggling an apple and two oranges in the air where he sat on the folding chair near the far table. He'd been at it for a while and was slowly adding to the show with occasionally tossing items behind himself. Karai watched with a bored look on her face. He'd been nervously flitting in and out of the room the entire morning. It was obvious to her that he was worried.

"You don't have to sit in here the entire time," she told him. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Mikey caught the fruit and set them on the table. He spun in the chair and gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know. But I could use the company and thought maybe you could, too."

Karai shifted. She didn't understand why this one was constantly being nice to her. It felt wrong, somehow. Fake. Despite the pit of her stomach telling her it was no act, but truly sincere. She moved to cross her arms, momentarily forgetting she was bound. The chain on her cuff rattled. She glanced at it then back up at him.

"Why don't you uncuff me?"

"Sorry, can't do that."

"Afraid I'd beat you up and escape?" she asked with a soft smirk.

"Well, yeah, I guess, or really, that I'd have to use force on you and maybe accidentally hurt you. Besides that, I'd get in trouble for letting you go."

She rolled her eyes. _Hurt me, yeah right._

"Then why don't you just get out of here and give me some space? All right? Go away," she snapped. Then added, "_Freak_."

He shook his head. His stubbornness riled her frustration. She was tired and irritated, hurt and saddened. She just wanted to go home to her bedroom, sleep in her bed and pretend this was all just a nightmare. She couldn't deal with all the emotions running through her head and heart, mixing everything up into a ball of aggravation. Karai did what she always did when uncomfortable, she lashed out at him. Hoping to drive him away.

"You're not that smart are you?"

The momentary look of hurt was replaced with a self-deprecating shrug and soft smile. "Maybe not as smart as Donnie."

"Let me make this simple so even you can understand it. If you stay in here I'm going to continue insulting you, you stupid creep, and then I'm going to beat you senseless the first chance I get for irritating me."

"It's better than sitting out there all alone."

She sat up, balling her free fist. Maybe if she insulted him enough he'd leave her alone, so she could sort out her emotions and get her head on straight. Or maybe she could get him upset enough to do something stupid that she could use to her advantage to make an escape.

"You really are dumb. Choosing insults over being alone. What's wrong with you? And you reek, you know that?"

Mikey looked to the side then without making it too obvious, but failing miserably, he sniffed towards his armpit. He frowned, thinking. Then his eyes snapped up to her face, sneering at him. He pressed his mouth into a line, puckering his chin a little.

"I think you're just scared."

She snorted. "Of you?" _What would it take to get him out of here?_

"No." He said as he spun in a slow circle. When he came around again, he added, "Of the truth."

She was taken aback by his astute observation. Then quickly composed herself. She opened her mouth and he cut her off; counting on one hand.

"The fact that your dad isn't who you thought. That he pretty much kicked you to the curb without even blinking. And now you're stuck here. With us . . . _freaks_. And we're the only thing like family for you left in the whole world. Yeah, I think I'd be scared, too."

He brought both hands to the outside of his thighs and kicked one foot. Karai could only stare at him, infuriated, face flushed, but speechless. He tilted his head and considered her; bright eyes dimmed and glazed with a heavy sadness that pinched her heart more than she wanted to admit.

"I should hate you. I think Raph does. But I just kinda feel bad for you. It must be really hard to lose everything just in one night."

"Fuck you," she spat.

He ducked his head. He looked around the room. She trembled in impotent fury, sure that he'd meant it as a jibe, and yet, something else told her he was being sincere. That his words were meant to be understanding. She ground her teeth. It felt like she was going crazy. She focused her fury and fear on him.

"When I get loose I'm going to _gut_ you."

He turned his eyes to her. "Why?"

"Because I _hate_ you, you stupid, ugly _freak_!" The last word was a screech. She bounced where she sat. She screamed, "_I hate you_!"

Mikey, ducking his head, got up and left without another word.

An hour later he returned. He glanced at her wrist, rubbed raw and oozing from her earlier tantrum after he'd fled from the room. He didn't want her to get so upset that she hurt herself and felt bad for not leaving sooner. He set a water bottle down next to her body and retrieved a bottle from one cabinet and a roll of gauze. Her lip curled at him as he turned and hesitated before coming closer. But all the fight had gone out of her system. Karai only felt exhausted now. Confused and scared. The world was upside down and inside out and there was nothing she could do to rail against the circumstances she was abandoned to.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. But that wrist looks bad." He held up the gauze. "This will help."

She narrowed her eyes as he crept closer. But she was kunoichi and she couldn't just give up without a fight. She had to prove that she was dangerous and a foe to be respected and feared. It was all she had left. She swung her right hand in a wide arc, fingers clawed, meaning to rake his face. Mikey deftly caught her wrist and twisted it into a gentle, but firm hold.

"Ah!"

She struggled but Mikey held her fast. She tried to bring her knee up to kick him. He shifted out of the way. Her further attempts were just as useless. He patiently waited until she finally calmed down and stopped writhing and fighting him. He released her wrist and she shook it out with a grimace. Tears blinded her. It was over. Everything she once was. Everything she thought she had to be. What was left for her now? To her dismay, a tear broke loose and trailed down one pale cheek. Michelangelo watched it, then caught it with the edge of his finger. He swept it away and gave her a tremulous smile.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Karai. None of us want to hurt you. You're Splinter's daughter," his throat caught a little on the word. "And he loves you, so, I'm willing to keep trying."

Then he went to work, falling silent; wrapping her cuffed wrist with the cottony gauze, his touch gentle and careful. When he was done, he remained crouched, chin resting on one forearm. He turned his head and brought the water bottle up, twisted the cap off for her and handed it to her. She took it from him numbly and then drank deeply.

"Figured you'd be thirsty after all that screaming."

She huffed, not looking at him. Ashamed for allowing him to see her weakness, but feeling mostly drained and emptied out.

"D-Do you think he'll hurt Leo?"

Karai's face snapped to look at him, a cruel retort tingling along the edges of her tongue and lips. But when her gaze fell upon the mutant boy's face, it died an instant death. There was no more hurt to give him. She didn't have it in her. She was carved out and hollow. A mere shell. Her father's cruelty and this boy's relentless kindness had worked to undo her spirit. At least, for now. She blinked, dropping her eyes to the bottle in her hand. She shrugged.

"I mean . . . who'd know better, huh?"

She gave him a sidelong glance. "I would have thought no one . . . before." She rested her head against the cold wall. She sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes. "For what? Being annoying?" But her mouth turned up in a slight smile. One he did not return. His face remained serious.

"For what you've been put through. It must hurt." He chewed on his thumbnail. "D-Do you think Leo will forgive Master Splinter?"

Karai turned her head. Frowning, she blinked and slowly, truthfully said, "I don't know him well enough to answer that. I know I will _never_ forgive my . . . fath- master for this. Never."

* * *

The man lay sprawled in a broken heap. His dark uniform wrinkled, head turned to the wall at an awkward angle. Donatello sat panting next to Master Splinter. The man had gotten in a few hits before Don managed to break his neck. The worse of which was a slash with a short blade that had hit home. His father checked the gaping wound above his left eye that streamed blood in a curtain down half his face. He pressed a piece of fabric to it and wrapped it around Don's head. He then helped his son to his feet. The unconscious man's companion was braced against the opposite wall by Raphael's forearm shoved against his throat and one sai. The sai pierced through the soldier's shoulder; pinning him securely to the brick wall behind him. The soldier's legs jumped and kicked feebly.

"Okay, bright boy. Let's try this again. Where is my brother?"

The man said nothing, only sputtered between pain-filled gasps. His right arm hung limp and jagged; twisted at an odd angles where it was fractured. Raphael twisted the sai and drove it slowly deeper into the man. He whimpered and choked.

"Th-The Master's chamber," he squealed as the prongs of the sai started to dig into the bruised flesh.

Splinter advanced, with Donatello in tow. "_What?_" He frowned as fear gripped him. Why would he be there? What would Shredder want with his son in his private chamber? "Where is that?"

"T-Top floor. The suite makes up the entire level. His private chambers c-can't be missed."

Raphael yanked the weapon free and kicked the man as he slumped, knocking him cold. His green eyes flashed up at Splinter. Some icy, slimy slithering fright was worming its way through his stomach. It had started as a tiny coiled knot in the bottom of his gut but only swelled as they infiltrated the building and worked their way through the brightly lit hallways to the detention area. Raph could not shake the growing dread. The fear that they would find his brother - only not alive. He wanted to tear open every barred and closed door that stood between him and his missing brother. And now this.

What did it mean? Why wouldn't Leonardo be here where they keep prisoners? His heart beat a frantic staccato against his rib cage. Thoughts too terrible to fully realize drifted like a fog at the edge of his mind. A scream was building, he could feel it in the front of his chest, climbing up through his tight throat. Even skewering the Foot ninja did little to assuage his mounting rage and strangling panic.

Donatello asked the questions gagging him in silence. "Why would he be there? Why isn't he here?"

Splinter shook his head. "Perhaps, he has been wise and careful and has earned an audience with Shredder. I am sure that he has impressed the Shredder with his skill and calm demeanor."

Raphael pressed his bottom lip hard into his upper lip to keep it from trembling, in anger and fear. He turned, without a word, without daring to give his deepening terror and doubt a voice; leading them towards the stairwell. He couldn't meet Splinter's eyes. He wondered if he's be able to once this was over and Leo was home where he belonged. Where he'd always belonged.

Raphael glanced behind him to see Donatello limping just in front of Splinter who was offering some support. Somehow in the tussle, Don had hurt his leg as well. His left arm ached and he had a wound in his side, but he pushed past the burning pain, determined not to have anything slow him down. His gaze fell on Splinter and he looked away quickly.

His father continued to say things like that about Leo. As if insisting and trying to convince himself that it was up to Leonardo to decide what befell him in the grip of their enemy. As if he could determine his own fate here. That if he was polite enough, stoic and still, courageous and courteous, nothing could go wrong. Nothing bad would happen to him. The very thought was beyond ridiculous. But Raphael knew it was a lie that his father continued to utter if only to brace himself against the awful reality that this wasn't about control and skill. That this was at its heart, about betrayal. Raphael pinched his eyes shut.

It hurt too much to think about it, so he shoved it down. There was nothing that Leo could have done to prepare for this. This nightmare. Raphael was young. But he wasn't stupid. In his tender years, he was already more than a little jaded. It was usually through his brothers' optimistic views of the world that he managed to get from day to day without going crazy. Mikey's simple happiness, Donatello's cool reasoning and honest logic, Leo's determined perspective that nobility and honor could be found, even in the human world. A world that would never see them as anything more than twisted mistakes of nature or god or whatever.

His brothers were too naïve. They were too good. Leo especially, Raph thought with the fierce, protective pride that only a younger brother could hold for his elder sibling. Leonardo was too good for this sickening, ugly world.

_Oh Leo, what have they done to you?_ If even one finger was laid against him, Raph didn't think he could deal with it. Not after what he was sure his brother understood as complete abandonment from his father. How that must have hurt him . . . Raphael's heart constricted painfully. With a growl, he took to the steps with a possessed speed, doubling up as he sprinted up the floors. Every step he took towards finding his brother made his heart gallop harder. With his brother and father bringing up the rear, they raced up the never-ending levels of stairs. Up and up and up still, until they had reached the end and run down a narrow, dimly lit corridor that marked the top floor of the building. They paused to catch their breath just outside the door of the top-most level. This was it. The Shredder's personal suite lay just beyond. Inside, somewhere had to be Leo.

This door was unlike the doors on the lower levels they had passed. Metal doors painted red, opening up to brightly lit hallways, numbered with a steel plate. This was a traditional looking sliding door, paneled with honey colored wood, built right into the wall. Several shelves lined the wall next to it. Stacked there were various domestic items: folded towels of various sizes, linens and other items. Splinter braced a hand on the thin wooden panel and pushed it gently to the side. It made only the slightest whispering as it opened. Peering inside, Splinter could see that they were at the far end of what looked like a master bedroom. It was situated so that whomever was tasked with refreshing the room could simply slip in and out between book cases without any interference or disturbing the Master should he be present.

Holding his breath, he scanned the room from what he could see. The room was dark and furnished with finely crafted furniture. There was an upholstered bench for dressing near a large set of mirrored doors that most likely led to a walk-in closet. There was a desk and two black leather seats situated in front of it. The desk took up most of the room's far wall, behind it was a large window that revealed a stunning view of the city. Paintings of cherry blossoms and mountainsides covered some of the dark paneled walls.

It was still and Splinter's ears strained for any sound that would indicate that they were not alone. His nose sniffed at the air. A slight odor of metal and musk drifted to him but slipped away from him before he could fully identify what exactly it was that he had just smelled. There was no sign of the Shredder. But there was no sign of his son, either. His heart sunk. He turned his face to directly in the center of the room. Between elegant lamps and matching nightstands stood a large four poster bed. He could make out silken fabric hanging from the ceiling that drifting down and connected to the four posts and draped down in luscious folds to the floor.

He blinked, not sure of what he was seeing. There was a form on the bed. Splinter frowned. Narrowed his eyes. It was too small to be the Shredder. His heart stopped. His stomach shrank. His bowels turned to water. It could not be. It could _not_ be.

"No," he whispered. Then, before he could stop the damning words, they spilled from over his numb lips, "Leonardo, what have you done?"

Raphael struggled to see past his father's rigid form gone still as stone. His blood chilled when he heard his father's whispered words. "What do you mean? What did he do?" he hissed.

He and Donatello exchanged frightened, confused glances. Don shook his head, completely lost. He leaned on his bo staff and peered into the room, unable to see past his master's robe. Frustrated and out of patience, Raph pushed past Splinter who continued to stand frozen in place, sais out in both fists. His jaw clenched as his head whipped around looking for any sign of the Shredder or his men. His gaze fell on the bed and continued on, only to snap back and lock on the battered form lying spread-eagle on the top of the soiled coverlet. His arms dropped. His fists shook. He took two steps and his knees gave out. A strangled sound rippled from his throat.

Donatello rushed past him in a limping blur. Only then did he regain enough strength to jump back to his feet. He fell forward and gripped the edge of the mattress for support. His eyes raked over the awful sight before him. His eyes watered and burned. His vision blurred. It couldn't be real. But here he was. They had found him. Oh god, they had found him, but was it too late?

Leo lay, eyes closed on a stained quilt. It seemed as if every inch of his body had been bruised and then sliced to ribbons. His arms were out, his left arm wrapped up and hidden beneath the blanket and his legs lay limp and parted wide. He appeared like a doll that someone had finished playing with and had tossed onto the mattress without a second thought. Without meaning to, Raphael's eyes shot to his brother's groin. His tail and other sensitive private parts lay exposed and mangled. His stomach roiled as sympathetic pain shot through his own loins. He shook and retched, barely able to keep his stomach contents down.

Raphael's voice came out hoarse and too high-pitched, "Leo?" He snapped his face to Donatello who looked pale and sick himself. "Don, is he . . . oh god." He pressed the back of his hand hard to his mouth as the musky scent reached him through the coppery stench of blood. The unmistakable odor of sex hung like a thick malaise over his brother. The implications of what he was seeing . . . what his brother had endured hit him.

"No," he warbled. "Ah, Leo. Ah, no." He started to shake. "Wh-Why would he do this to you?" His fingers curled around the hilts of his sai. "I-I'm gonna _skin _that_ filthy bastard alive!_" he said through heaving breaths.

Donatello made a choked sound as his fingers flew to the side of Leonardo's neck. At the contact, Leo gave a soft moan. At the sound, Raphael wheeled around. His eyes wild, he looked for any trace of Shredder.

"I'm gonna KILL him!" He screamed and Splinter was on him, covering his mouth. Raph struggled and bucked. Splinter brought him down, locking him quickly into a hold. Raph snarled and Splinter used his inner elbow to muffle him with force. Raph continued to writhe. His entire body trembled and shook with resistance and fury turned inward.

"Raphael, enough. You will kill yourself and your brothers with this outburst. We are in no condition to seek revenge."

Donatello nodded in agreement; half of his face covered in gore. "Let's just . . ." his voice broke off as his eyes traveled over his brother's broken body as if the very sight of the damage stole away his ability to speak. He swallowed roughly. "We have to get him home."

Raphael bucked once more and Splinter released him. Raphael spun on his father. He jabbed his sais into his belt and eyes flashing he snarled in a low voice, "Don't-Don't touch me!"

Splinter flinched as though struck. He dropped his gaze to where Leonardo lay on the bed, then slowly closed his eyes as his heart tumbled and shattered. His son, his child, his beautiful boy. It could not be true. The Shredder could not have defiled him in that way. Not like that. It could not be true. Surely he had only been beaten, sliced up, and nothing more. He could accept that the Shredder had traitorously abused Leonardo despite his assurances that nothing would be done to his son with regards to harming him. But that he himself had delivered his precious boy into the very clutches of an unfathomable evil, had abandoned his child to the twisted appetites of a monster; it was more than his reason could withstand and remain intact. So, instead, he denied what his senses clearly understood.

Raphael turned back to his unconscious brother. Donatello stood fidgeting, clearly trying to determine how best to move Leo without causing him more harm. He looked like he was about to pass out any second. A squeal of a faucet had all three of their heads turning in the direction of a door to the side of the desk then back to Leonardo's body. Raph bared his teeth in a feral snarl, he took several steps towards the sound, reaching for his sai, but Donatello stopped him.

"Wait, Raph. Now's not the time. H-He's hurt bad," he urged. Raphael stopped in his tracks and a tremor went through his body. He stayed like that for a moment longer before he gave a single, sharp nod. He spun on his heel and dashed to the side of the bed.

"We're getting him outta this hellhole. Right now," he ground out under his breath.

Splinter knelt impotent and helpless as Raph moved. Donatello's face darted from the door to Raph and back again. Raphael gathered up the ends of the blanket and wrapped it up and over Leo until his brother's head only poked out of the top. Leonardo struggled weakly against the fabric. He made a mewling sound that froze Raphael in his tracks. He stared at Leo with wide burning eyes. The sound came again and it nearly broke him. With trembling arms, he knelt on the mattress and gathered Leo up in his arms like a baby.

"I've got you, Leo. Hang on."

Then he scooted back off the mattress and rushed past Splinter, heading back where they had come from. Donatello limped to Splinter and helped his master up to stand. They leaned heavily on each other as they fled the room. The chamber where Splinter's worst visions of evil had been played out over his son's innocent flesh over the long terrible hours of the night.

Raphael's feet padded down the narrow hallway. Leo's head bobbed with the motion. He made another broken mewl and Raphael's own agonized whimper covered it. He clenched his jaw as he raced down the stairs, doing his best not to jostle Leo too much. Cursing every time he felt his brother quake or tense in his arms; hating himself for not just coming earlier in the night like he had wanted to; like he had demanded from the minute Splinter had come home with that wretched bitch that he called his daughter.

He nuzzled his cheek hard into the top of his brother's sticky head; murmured thickly over and over between hitching breath; through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry, bro. Oh god, I'm _so_ _sorry_."

* * *

**A/N: whoa boy... don't hate me too much. xo**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

"Really? Ten hours a day?" Mikey asked.

After her outburst, she had calmed down and seemed for the most part subdued. He didn't want to sit in the living room alone with his anxiety chewing a hole through his stomach so he was grateful that she had experienced this shift in moods. The little he was getting to know of her told him she was as unpredictable as Spring weather in the city.

Karai nodded, flipping through the comic Michelangelo had brought to her along with a stack of various out-of-date magazines. Nothing of interest to her. Racing, Sports and several cooking periodicals. She liked the art on the cover of the comic stowed beneath the pile and had pulled it over for a closer look. It featured a katana wielding female warrior. That she was in space was ridiculous, that she apparently had something hot going on with a rather tall, dark and oddly attractive alien creature in heavy armor was intriguing. The two characters traded witty lines between lopping the heads off of their enemies. The alien had a blaster that reduced the creatures they were fighting to ashes.

Karai nodded in response to Mikey as she took in a battle scene; eyes glued to the last panel illustrating a triumphant kiss between characters as they finally, covered in blood and gore, admitted their deepest hidden feelings to one another. She rolled her eyes but studied the next panels intensely.

"When did you eat? I mean, Master Splinter would have us train and then do our school work, but we always had enough time to eat and play."

Mikey looked at her, considering what she had told him of her childhood and training. It seemed to him that she had led a more isolated life than even he and his brothers had. It sounded harsh and repetitive, structured and strict. Mostly, it sounded lonely. No wonder she was so rough around the edges when it came to socializing.

She shrugged, flipping to the next page only to find it to be a cliff hanger. The room the two inter-species lovers were making out in burst inward and was infiltrated by the intergalactic police or something. She sighed and tossed the floppy book to the corner of the mattress.

"You don't have the next book to this do you?"

He smiled shyly and shook his head. "Uh, no. I had it, but uh, Raph caught sight of one of the, uhm, next scenes and threw a fit. Master Splinter confiscated it," he said and a soft blush graced his cheeks.

"Well, that sucks," she said with a sulking hunch to her shoulders.

Michelangelo cleared his throat. He had a soft-ball sized rubber ball that he'd been fiddling with. He threw it, caught it and repeated. The ball made a clip clop sound as it struck the floor, bounded up to hit the wall and bounce back to where Mikey was sitting. He caught it with one hand and threw it with the other, alternating each time. Karai was leaning up against the pile of pillows. Mikey had gotten them for her so she could sit on the edge of the cot with some kind of support to rest against as she read the materials he brought. Her legs hung over the side, swinging unconsciously in time with the sound of the ball bouncing and striking, rebounding and clopping. He caught it and she held out her hand. His brow cocked.

He asked as he tossed it to her, "You're not gonna just throw this at my head, are you?"

She caught it and hefted it, considering. "Nah, it's not hard enough to do enough damage to your skull."

Mikey turned the chair around and rested his chin on his forearms and watched as Karai deftly mimicked the throwing game. She kept a bored expression plastered on her face, tossing the ball with limp effort. After a few times, she raised both brows and gave him a sidelong glance. She then tossed the ball in such a way that when it bounced back, it came to the young mutant. Mikey caught it off to the side nonchalantly. He threw it over one shoulder and it boinked against the wall and came back to Karai. She bit the side of her bottom lip and causally threw it behind her back where it hit the ceiling then the wall behind her, bounced onto the floor and flew in a high arc to Mikey. With a playful smirk, he caught it behind his head without looking.

Karai's face split into a wide grin, clearly impressed and Mikey smiled, pleased to have such a warm reaction to his prowess. But the bonding moment ended abruptly as Karai pulled her knees up to her chest and hid the waning smile behind her loose fist. She dropped her eyes and rested her cheek against her arm. Mikey's smile dropped.

"You know, it's not a crime to have a little fun."

Quickly, she spat, "I'm not having fun." She sat up, rattled the chain connected to the cuff. "I'm your prisoner."

Mikey shot a guilt-filled look at the cuffs. He chewed on his inner cheek. Then shook his head. "I'm really sorry about that, but I bet the gauze makes it a little better." He paused, worried eyes considering her. "Doesn't it?"

"Not really."

He looked crestfallen. She sighed, wiggled her bound hand. "Maybe a little," she muttered. She narrowed her eyes. "I have to use the bathroom."

Mikey's face dropped. "What?" The ball bounced against the wall and popped him in the side of the head. He barely registered it.

"The bathroom. You do have one down here, right?" Suddenly, she looked genuinely concerned as her face darted around. "I mean, you don't, like, just go wherever . . ."

Mikey stuttered, "Wh-What?! No. Of course not! Geez!" His cheeks tinged pink.

"Well, how would I know? I've never lived with a bunch of –"

The hurt look came to his eyes before she said it and the word caught on her tongue. Hours ago she would have insulted him with everything she could think of. But after spending the morning and part of the day with the young turtle, she found his company less annoying and even . . . comforting at times.

She rolled her eyes. Oh, this was perfect. She was going soft. What kind of ninja was she? The thought jarred her. It brought too many uncomfortable questions with it. She took in a deep breath. One thing at a time. She could figure out her life later. Right now, she really had to use the bathroom.

"So?" She rattled the chain.

Michelangelo looked around in panic.

"For fuck's sake. You do have a key, don't you?" she demanded. Then, "Oh my god, don't even tell me I have to use a bucket. I swear I will dump it all over you the first chance I get."

Despite his worry, Mikey busted out laughing. "Ew, _Karai_."

Her scowl turned into a reluctant, awkward laugh. "I mean it."

"I believe you."

He stood up with his hands out and then grew serious. He slowly pulled a key from a pouch in his belt. He took a deep breath and blew it out. "Okay. Look. Since this is an emergency, then, I will uncuff you, but . . ." he held up one thick digit. "No tricks. No trying to escape, okay? Or you'll force me to get you a bucket. I think both of us don't want that."

He wrinkled his snout and Karai had to force herself not to smile. She pinched her eyes closed. She really must be losing her mind, she thought sharply, or maybe it was sleep deprivation.

"Whatever, just, get this off me before things get ugly."

The cuff fell away and Mikey braced himself as Karai sat, rubbing her wrist with a grimace and then gracefully slid from the cot. She gave him an expectant look.

"Oh, right. Uh, walk in front of me," he said and took a piece of her sleeve between his finger and thumb to guide her in the direction of their bathroom.

They crossed out into the living room and turned right. Karai's gaze flitted over the furniture and general layout of their home. She was surprised to find it extremely neat and tidy. There even was a large tree growing out of the center of room. It was beautiful and strangely imposing looking. She swallowed and felt the gentle tug moving her towards the bathroom. The idea of making an escape featured prominently in her mind. Now would be her best chance, but something like stubborn anger made her shove the thought away. She could escape easily, but . . . she didn't want to. She didn't feel like running back to the Shredder right now. Maybe another day. Because right now she only felt confused and furious and . . . lost. They stopped before a door and Mikey cleared his throat. She glanced at him and looking at the ceiling nodded his head in the direction of the room.

"Got it."

She went inside and quickly used the facilities. Then washed her hands, unwrapping the gauze and running the raw flesh under the cool water. It stung a little at first, but then, felt much better. She sighed and gazed at her reflection in the large oval mirror above the sink. She was wearing a simple long sleeved black shirt and matching leggings. Her make-up was smeared. She glanced around and grabbed a wash cloth. She sniffed it, wrinkled her nose and sniffed again. Well, it didn't smell too bad. She ran it under the water and then scrubbed away at the red shadow, rinsed and repeated until her eyes were left with only the black smudged residue of her dark eye liner. It was the best she could do without make-up remover.

She leaned on the sink. Head down. Her eyes raised. She stared into her deep green eyes for a while, thinking. She chewed on a pale bottom lip. What was she going to do? Part of her wanted to knock the kid out and make a break for it. While another part was not ready to see the man who'd given her up so easily. Did he regret the decision, even a little? Her heart pitched. What if he did? What if he wanted her to come home?

She ran a clammy palm through her ragged cropped hair and then shook her head. What was she thinking? He didn't care about her. He never did. Her eyes made their way to a long clef shaped scar near her right temple. The scar that was hidden most of the way by the red shadow she painted on. She had nearly lost her eye when she was eight. She'd been training for the first time with actual bladed weapons. It was her instructor's fault. She was too young, but wanted to impress her father with her new skills. As she stumbled to her knees, right eye blinded by sharp pain and blood, he had stared coldly at her and huffed in disappointment, then turned his back and walked out of the room when she'd started to cry.

"He never cared about me," she whispered and the truth cut fresh openings over scar tissue in her heart.

She sighed heavily. It still left her here with these . . . freaks of nature. The rat had told her something. She was so upset she had hardly paid any attention. But he said something about her mother. He said he was her father, a human at one time. And that meant he could possibly have known her mother. She dropped her face into her hands. The tear in her soul, rending her into two halves, ripped further apart.

She slammed her palms onto the porcelain of the sink. What could she do? Her heart pounded. Fear and worry merged into anger. She balled her fists. She could fight them. She could make their lives as miserable as possible. Punish them for taking her in. Make them pay for all of this chaos.

But then a troubling thought struck her. What was going to happen to her if they suddenly decided they didn't want her as her fath- the Shredder had? The thought sent a chill through her spine. She had lived in the Tokyo area most of her life. The thought of trying to piece together a life on her own in this country, on the streets, did not appeal at all to her. She had seen the wretches and lost souls that the Foot turned away when they came to compounds and dojos hoping to be taken in. The life of a teen on the streets was not something she longed for. She'd be an adult in two years, but had nothing to fall back on. Not anymore. She had nothing. Nowhere to turn. No escape.

"Everything okay, um, in there?"

Karai emerged from the bathroom, scowling. "Why wouldn't it be?" she asked incredulously.

He stared for a moment, taking in her face without the make-up. She looked different without the fierce stripes around her eyes. She didn't look as hard, as mean. He could make out the color of her irises better. For the first time, he realized that Karai really was kind of pretty just as he overheard Leonardo confiding to Raph. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

"I dunno. I was just afraid you were havin, you know, uh, um, girl troubles."

She pressed her mouth into a line and folded her arms over her chest. "Really. And what exactly are girl troubles?"

Mikey's eyes ran up and down her body as she stood staring at him. He rubbed the back of his head and motioned to her in a general sort of way with his other hand. "You know. All that stuff. That . . . troubles . . . girls." He frowned, cheeks pink. "Well you should know better than me! I'm not a girl."

"You sure about that?"

He huffed and marched around to the back of her and pinched her sleeve again with a pouting frown. "You know it's a shame that Raph hates you, I think you two would get along really well if he gave you a chance. Back to the lab, Kar-abby Karai."

She shook her head at the silly nickname, but complied. As he snapped the cuff back in place she glowered down at it.

"Is that really necessary, now? Didn't I just prove I wouldn't try to escape?"

Mikey shook his head, but looked torn. "That'll be up to Master Splinter." He sat down heavily. Silence fell around them. Both sitting quietly, lost in their own thoughts and worries. He twisted around and looked up at the clock. "I wonder if they found him yet," he said quietly.

Karai stared at the back of his head and picked at the gauze on her wrist. "What will happen to me, I mean, if-if he isn't . . . If he was, uhm . . ."

Mikey turned around to face her, his expression one of dread and deep anxiety. He crossed his arms over his body more in a hugging position than defiance or defense; began bouncing his knees with nervous energy. She licked her lips and tried again.

"I just mean, if he's hurt. It wouldn't be my fault . . . um, but if something . . . bad happened to him. Will your father still-" _want to keep me._ God, she couldn't say it. Wasn't sure why it would even be an issue. She would land on her feet. She wouldn't have a choice. But the fear was too real, too thick, choking her. "Nevermind. Whatever. I don't care. Forget it."

Mikey scooted forward to the edge of the chair and then hopped from it to sit next to her on the cot. She shifted and fidgeted. He reached over and placed his large hand over her cuffed one; gently squeezed her fingers in reassurance. He stared at her shocked expression with wide eyes.

"Is it okay, if I just sit here a minute? I do better if . . . if I can just," he swallowed and stared forward at the floor.

She blinked. His hand was warm and a little clammy. Suddenly, she felt a twinge of guilt. The twinge turned into a brick in the pit of her stomach. She'd done the typical thing. Only thinking of herself this entire time. Her own future and safety when, really, there was nothing to worry about. They had only treated her with care and tried to make her as comfortable as possible. Something she was damn sure was not happening with Leonardo.

A slick finger of unease slid up her spine to the back of her neck. No. The Shredder would not be feeding Leonardo and chatting with him. And the games he played with the mutant would most likely involve pain and bloodshed. An uncomfortable memory surfaced. A half-remembered dream that she had buried.

It was shortly after coming here to this country. It had been the middle of the night. She'd had a nightmare and wanted to get something to drink. Knowing the servants had retired for the night, she'd gone padding down the hallways alone. The sound of an animal whining had caught her ear and she had stopped to peer down the corridor to her father's wing of private chambers. Through the paneled doors that separated her area from his, she had seen them. Three girls in simple, short gowns, were stumbling out of her father's chamber. They were upset. Crying. Rambling in a language that reminded her of Japanese but wasn't. Their dresses were torn and patterned in bright red flowers.

Soldiers appeared from the far end of the hallway. The girls shrank back, falling on one another as they pleaded with the elite ninja and that's when she heard the sound again. One of the girls was making the strangled repeating cry. She was hysterical. The men drew their weapons and herded the girls back into the room, kicking them and shoving them, and that's when Karai thought she saw the flowers on the dresses were dripping onto the floor. She closed her eyes and slid the panel shut. The next morning she convinced herself that what she had seen was the nightmare that had awaken her in the first place.

She turned her eyes to Mikey, sitting there, staring at the floor. He must really be worried and scared. And what she had just said only served to make things that much more worse by dredging up all the terrors that he'd been fighting back all morning.

"I didn't mean . . ." her voice was strangled, surprising herself.

Mikey merely shook his head. "It's okay," he whispered, still with that faraway look. "I just want him home, now."

Slowly, Karai twisted her hand around so that her palm was against his. Her fingers twitched and then curled around his. His face turned partly, not quite turning all the way to face her. He glanced sidelong towards her with only his eyes. She gave him a weak smile.

"Thanks," he murmured.

* * *

A/N:Please review! I love hearing from you, and would like your thoughts on this one. I really didn't want to rush things with Karai but keep her conflicted and kind of an emotional mess. The next chapter will have Leo's arrival and the fall out shall begin. xo


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Mikey jumped up with a start at the sound of footsteps rushing into the lair. He glanced at Karai. She could only stare back at him, giving him no encouragement or dissuasion. He raced out of the room. Karai scooted to the very edge of the bed, wondering what they had found and if Leonardo was okay. She strained to listen. Her heart thumped in anxious dread. Surprised at how much she hoped he was not harmed. And not just for her own safety. As much as she tried to deny it to herself, Leonardo held a special place in her mind. He intrigued her. Fascinated and thrilled her, to be honest, and while it was the source of her teasing, she rather enjoyed his rigid good-guy persona. Raphael's rough voice, thick and hoarse with tears, had the hair on the back of her neck raising.

"Get out of the way, Mikey, he's hurt. He's fuckin' hurt, okay? Move!"

They stormed into the room. Karai tucked her legs under herself and sat on her knees, leaning forward for the handcuff securing her. Raphael came in first, Leo bundled in his arms like a sleeping child. Michelangelo scurried around him like an anxious terrier. Splinter followed behind, assisting and supporting Donatello into the room. Part of Donatello's face was coated in drying blood from a superficial wound above his brow. He rubbed the grime from his eye with the back of one hand. Then broke from Splinter's side and hobbled over to the cot that Mikey had pulled over for Raph to set Leo down upon. Everyone was speaking at once, shouting questions and no one was listening to each other. "What happened?" "Give him some space." "Watch his head." "Don't jostle him, Raphael." "Why isn't he awake?" Donatello pressed his mouth into firm line, then pushed Raphael out of his way from where he hovered over Leonardo's huddled form.

"The first aid kits, Mikey. Get them."

"All of them?"

Raph and Don turned their faces to him and snapped at the same time, "Yes!"

Mikey raced to the cabinets and started pulling out boxes of gauze and bandages, and then two shoe boxes, stacking them in his arms. Karai bit her lip, straining to see what was happening, but Raphael's shell and Master Splinter's body were blocking most of the view. Everyone was shifting and moving but she couldn't see anything useful. She could only see part of the blanket hanging off the edge of the table. Her heart thundered in her ears with her rising panic. Leonardo was not coming home on his own feet. They had to carry him. That information alone was enough to send a thrill of terror through her. She ran her free hand through her hair and wished someone would tell her his condition and what had happened.

A very small part of her wondered if they had encountered her fath-the Shredder during the rescue. She wondered how she'd feel if they told her they had killed him. The vindictive side of her wished it had happened, only that she was the one to do it, the soft child within her, worried for his safety. And she damned herself for it. She chewed on her lip, mind racing, holding her breath. Feeling as though she were on the verge of losing her wits. This was all so messed up. Not for the first time, she wondered how she found herself in this upside down situation.

Behind Michelangelo, Donatello started to carefully unwrap Leo from the blanket. Some of the blood had stuck and he needed to peel the material away with a grimace. His brother twitched. Raphael fidgeted where he stood, blinking and glancing from Don to Master Splinter then back to Leonardo's face, pinched with distress.

"Can you give him somethin', Don? He looks like he's in pain."

Don shot him a glance and shook his head. "I'm sure he is, Raph."

"Then give him _something_," Raph hissed and grabbed Don's wrist. Master Splinter placed a hand on Raph's arm. Raph shrugged it roughly back, glaring at his father, releasing Donatello in the process.

"Don't touch me!" Raph snapped, eyes flashing.

Master Splinter's face darkened. "Raphael," he said in a warning tone.

Raphael puffed his chest, staring furiously up at his father. Splinter met his defiant gaze and held it. He understood that Raphael was upset, but his disrespect would need to be curbed before it got out of hand. For now, his main concern was Leonardo's health. He shifted his gaze back to Leonardo and only then did Raphael drop his eyes. Mikey brought the kits, tumbling the gauze from his arms onto the small table that Don had pulled over.

Donatello hissed in a breath as the last part of the blanket covering their battered brother fell away. Raphael and Splinter turned in unison and their eyes raked over the condition of Leonardo's body. He bore no padding, no mask. He lay exposed and vulnerable under the bright lights of Donatello's lab. His arms and legs were sliced in long and short lacerations, most had clotted but some oozed and others, deeper ones ran in thin rivulets over the contours of his muscles. Where he wasn't cut, his flesh was dark with bruises. His plastron was laced with cracks and gashes. His throat bore the telltale markings of strangulation. His face was bruised in places but mostly unmarked.

Raph's attention snapped back to Leonardo's face as he moaned softly and trembled. He started to pant from between gritted teeth.

"Don," Raph said and there was pleading in his tone.

"Let me see what he needs first, okay? I-I have to make sure it's safe to give him something. I dunno if they drugged him, too. I mean . . . he was . . . he was . . ."

Donatello's thoughts zeroed in on where they had found him; laying spread eagle on the Shredder's bed like that. He didn't want to think it, but had to consider what might have been done to his big brother. His eyes inadvertently swept to Leonardo's privates, still hanging limp and mangled between his legs as if he didn't even have the strength to draw himself back up under his lower plastron's protective plating. Donatello cringed as his eyes took in the bruised flesh of his brother's most tender, sensitive body part. There was no doubt that he'd been molested besides beaten. And if he'd been raped then they either drugged him first or . . . he swallowed . . . didn't. By the looks of Leonardo's injuries, he probably wasn't drugged. It looked as though he'd fought with everything he had.

His heart plummeted and he felt sick, in fact, his stomach rolled violently and he pressed the back of his hand to his lips, closing his eyes. But he steeled himself. He had to be strong for his family. For Leo. He tried to speak, but his voice was a whisper, thready and weak, "He was probably not drugged. But I-I still have to be careful . . ."

"Why can't you just –"

"Raphael," Splinter cut in. "Allow Donatello to do what he deems necessary without further interruption."

"Look at 'em! He's hurtin'," Raphael gestured to Leo with both hands. "Oh . . ." he stepped back and chuckled darkly, eyes wild and glassy. Splinter stiffened. "That's right, I forgot, you don't care if he's suffering. What did you say back there," he placed a hand on his forehead, then dropped it and snapped his fingers, "Oh yeah." He dropped his voice, mocking his Sensei's voice, _'Leonardo, what have you done?'_ What have you done. That's what you said." He jabbed a finger in his father's direction, voice rising, filled with hurt and accusation, "I heard you. Like this was his fault. His fault that he ended up Shredder's fuckin' rape toy!" Raphael was out of his mind now; shouting; voice cracking, shuddering with barely suppressed fury. His face was full of hatred and defiance, but also despair and grief.

Karai pressed her free hand to her mouth and clamped her eyes shut. She shook her head once in denial of what was just said. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Her fath-the Shredder . . . was not capable of such monstrosity . . . and yet . . . and yet, those girls. Those poor little girls she had seen in the hallway that night. The one keening in terror was years younger than her, so very small. Their dresses that she had thought sported a pattern of large red blossoms, that only later did she realize were actually splotches of dripping blood and gore against the pale fabric. Her stomach roiled as her throat tightened.

Fears, repressed and denied, surfaced. Her skin crawled with memories of her fath-the Shredder gazing at her, as she stood, wrapped in a towel, fresh from the bath; or coming in from the dojo, sweaty and panting; his eyes filled with something she couldn't comprehend at the time. Both her innocence and her affection for the man she identified as her father blinding her to the hunger laid plain. Why hadn't he ever acted upon it? Her relief was tempered with the twisted knowledge that it existed in the first place. Her stomach heaved and she felt dizzy.

Donatello paled to a light green. His mouth hung open at Raphael's outburst and hysterics. Mikey's face bounced between his father who stood in seething, silent fury and his raging insane brother, with eyes huge and fearful. In the last twenty-four hours they'd all been stunned and felt betrayed and none of it was easy to accept or deal with and Raphael had never been one to handle emotional upheaval well. But Michelangelo did not want his family to crumble right before his eyes. He had to do something before his entire family imploded. He reached out and took Raphael's arm with both hands.

"Shut up, Raph! Shut up!" Mikey brought one clammy hand up to cover Raphael's mouth. Raph swatted it away and jerked back.

"It's true, Mikey!" Now the tears were spilling down Raphael's face. "He-He . . . we found 'em on the Shredder's bed like this!" He spun around and pointed up at Master Splinter. "Y-You told us he'd be okay! That he wouldn't be harmed if he-if he was _good_, oh god. If he was good. Leo," Raphael grabbed the sides of his head.

Master Splinter took a threatening step in Raphael's direction. Mikey reached forward again and pulled on his brother's quaking elbow. He wrapped an arm around his chest, yanking him closer.

"Shut up, Raph! Shut up!" he pleaded.

Splinter's voice boomed over them, "Leave this room - my sight – immediately, Raphael."

_"Make me!"_ he roared and his eyes were brimming with fresh tears, chest heaving, fists shaking violently. Raph jumped forward out of Mikey's grasp and his hip caught the blanket, the motion pulled it free from where it was still covering what remained of Leonardo's left arm.

Mikey made a soft desperate noise from the back of his throat. He immediately fell back from Raphael. Then lurched forward and gripped the edge of the cot, then one hand shot to his mouth as his eyes locked on Leonardo's arm. From the corner of his eye, he saw Raph who look back at him, panting and miserable.

"What happened to his arm?" Mikey rasped, his tone rising to a squeak by the end of the question.

All eyes went to Leonardo's arm, bound in wide, filthy bandages, half hidden by his quivering torso.

"I don't . . ." Donatello began, but froze as Raphael gently cradled his brother's appendage with two hands exposing the fact that it ended just past his elbow. There was a heartbeat, then another as the four of them stood in horrified, stunned silence processing the fact of Leonardo's missing limb.

"Oh no, please. Th-they _didn't_ . . ." Donatello murmured, voice breaking on the last word; shaking his head in denial.

"Oh, fuck, Leo," Raph choked, he placed his brother's arm back to rest at his side. He spun around and crouched into a tight ball, covering his head with his arms as he groaned and heaved a dry sob into his elbows. His anguish spilling out in wordless sounds.

Splinter's stomach dropped. His jaw fell open and he staggered forward, and swayed, making a strangled whimpering noise that none of his sons had ever heard him make before.

"No, please. H-His arm." Mikey's bottom lip trembled as he looked at Master Splinter then back to his brother laying before him. He started to bounce on the spot. His voice rising and wavering, "His arm! His arm! Master Splinter, his arm!" He shouted in a shrill tone and then broke down into babbling hysterics. Donatello grabbed him and pulled him tightly into an embrace as Mikey's legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor, dragging Donatello with him.

A choked, half-finished cry of distress, swallowed back but not before it erupted free came from behind them. Raphael's face shot up. His eyes fell on Karai, pale and trembling on her knees on the cot.

_"You!"_ he snarled and leaped to his feet. He lunged towards her, hands in fists. "This is your fault!" He leaped forward as Master Splinter shouted and moved to stop him. But he was already on the cot, punching at her as she blocked with her free arm as best as she could. She cried out and fell back and he was on top of her, grabbing at her face. She thrashed and felt his fist grip her by the top of her head, then began slamming it into the wall behind her. Her fingers pulled and dragged against his chin and shoulders as she screamed. Her legs kicked uselessly, her knees banging against the back of his shell.

He slammed the side of her head again into the bricks; snarling, fangs bared; eyes blank with rage that he could no longer control. He released her but his hands went to her throat. Tightening. This was her fault. This was all her fault. Foam sprayed her face as he swore, mostly incoherently, but venomously and filled with pure hatred. The terrified voices of his family faded back as his mind settled on the grim satisfaction of doling out the justice that this brother's suffering demanded. For he'd be damned if he would spend another second of his life allowing her to live while his brother languished in his own private hell.

Karai choked and cried, sucking through gritted teeth to breathe. Her head thrashed from side to side. The pressure in her chest was now filling her head and she felt like her eye balls were going to burst from their sockets. Her fingers became clumsy and her struggle waned to feeble movements.

_"S-stop." _

Soft as a whisper, the command from the familiar voice cut through the haze of his rage like a beam of light streaking through an inky black sky. The voice that he feared he'd never hear again. Leonardo. He was awake. Raphael stiffened. He released her and twisted. She fell back, coughing and choking, sucking in air in great gasps. Everyone spun around at once.

He'd come through the haze by degrees. The light hurt his eyes, but blinking, he managed to crack them open enough to see. The harsh illumination had him fearing that he was once again in the Kraang's lab, his breath hitched in fright, but then the sound of his family shouting, his father's voice ordering Raphael to stop had him shuddering with relief. He was home. They had come for him after all. Though how or more importantly, _why,_ remained a mystery.

His body was afire with pain. It was hard to breath without sending sharp spikes through his side. With painful effort he turned his head and rolled his blood shot eyes to the side. He made out the form of his brother on top of someone near him. Wrestling against the person. The others were grabbing at him, the one beneath was struggling; slender legs kicking uselessly. Desperate sounds came from her. The noises sent a tremor through him.

Images from the bathroom flashed through his mind and his heart started to race. The men holding him down, shouting insults in his face, thrusting into him despite his struggling; mocking his efforts to squirm free; shifting places and delighting in his impotent rage and staggering fright as they took his innocence; tore it from him and mangled it; leaving it bleeding and shamed, forever altered; violated and broken.

No. Not again. He had to stop this. They were hurting her. He couldn't let them hurt her!

_"S-Stop."_

The voice that rose out of him did not sound right to his own ears. It was raspy and frail. Weak and feeble. Just speaking the word sent waves of rippling pain through this bruised throat. Then they all turned to him and he quailed beneath their astonished expressions. Cringed beneath the weight of their attention. He made a small cry of fright as they rushed to him and he shrunk into himself, away from their gasps and cries of relief and questions. The room spun wildly and he sunk back into the sweet relief of darkness just as he felt their hands intrusively touching him.

* * *

**A/N: **Doing my best. Hope you enjoy - I appreciate all the feedback, sweeties! xo


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

"Leo? _Leo_?!"

"Mikey give him room," Raph barked, hoarsely, shrugging out of Master Splinter's grasp.

Donatello placed a hand on Leonardo's brow. He looked up, glancing at each of them in turn. "He's out."

They stood, lost in their own individual storming emotions with the sound of Karai choking and breathing in wheezing gasps behind them. Master Splinter broke the moment. He gripped Raphael by the upper arm just under his armpit and dragged him from the room. Mikey and Donatello exchanged worried glances. Then Don turned his gaze to Karai. Hair mussed, hand at her throat, she stared back, face flushed and mottled. The ruddy complexion had her green eyes standing out, bright and vividly through the fringe of dark bangs. In that moment she didn't appear to him as predatory, she just looked like a human girl, weak and frightened. But then his eyes fell on his brother laying beneath his hand and his own anger flashed bright and blinding, leaving a phosphorescent blot in the center of his vision. It would be easy to lay the blame solely on this human girl. To blame her for the predicament that they found themselves in. The suffering and pain that his older brother had to endure. To turn the fury of the betrayal he felt from his father's decision fully in her direction. Logic dictated that none of this was her fault in actuality. And yet, his heart thumped and his fists tightened until his knuckles turned pale.

"Is . . . Is he okay?" she croaked.

The nerve of the statement, the gall of her asking if he was all right, as if he'd banged his head or tripped over something, scraping his knee. The depth of the impunity of that simple question. It served to push Donatello right over the precipice he balanced on between the emotional and the reasonable. He rounded the table, marching towards her. Karai shrank back. The look on his must have been murderous for Michelangelo jumped in front of him, hands out, placating and pleading.

"Donnie . . . please, just. Just help Leo right now, okay?"

Donatello stared at him, flat eyes filled with rage bouncing between his brother's pleading gaze. Michelangelo held his breath and then as he turned away, Mikey sniffed once, hard. He shuffled backwards and sat on the edge of the cot, trembling and unable to stop his shivering. He felt her fingers clawing at his own and he jumped. But their fingers intertwined, sweaty palms braced against one another and he looked at her and she mouth the words, 'sorry' to him.

He wanted to say she had nothing to be apologizing for. None of this was her fault. She wasn't the one who'd done this to Leonardo. She wasn't the one that took him out from his home and turned him over to the Shredder. But the words clung to the back of his throat and formed a lump that he could not expel nor swallow back.

* * *

Raphael flung his arm free of Master Splinter's hand. He rounded on his father and met the hard amber gaze with his own furious green.

Master Splinter's voice was low, part growl, "You will not disrespect me again, Raphael."

Raphael raised a shaking finger up at his father's face, but the wrist was caught, twisted and forced around to the back of his shell as his feet were kicked out from under him. His face was shoved into the floor with a grunt. Splinter pinned his back with one knee. Raph snarled and squirmed, but he was held in such a way that all the struggling only caused him more pain.

"I do not expect you to understand why I did what I did," Splinter's voice was in his ear, seething and furious, a tone that Raphael had never heard from him before. A sliver of fear ran through him. He clenched his jaw and pinched his eyes shut. He stopped struggling. To his horror a small whimper broke from his throat. "You are but a child. You have no idea what it means to lose everything you hold dear in a moment. You have no idea what it is like to discover a child you thought long dead was actually alive and within reach. You have no idea what it means to a father to regain a lost child."

"I know what it's like to have a b-brother taken away," his breath hitched and filled with tears, making it thick and distorted. "You betrayed Leo for someone . . . someone who's not even _family_," Raph spoke into the carpet beneath his cheek. Each word full of hurt and accusation.

Splinter released him. He sat up and turned around on his bottom to face his crouching father. Splinter looked at his son's face so filled with hurt and anger, then dropped his gaze to the floor. Raphael would never understand. None of them would. He barely understood it himself. All he knew was that he had to save her. He had to. He rested a hand over his brow, bracing one elbow on a bent knee as he sat fully down. His initial anger at Raphael's outburst and disrespectful behavior was already waning leaving him exhausted and emptied out. Every muscle, every bone was leaden and limp.

He did not blame his son for his response to Leonardo's injuries, he himself, was still struggling to accept what he'd seen with his own eyes. His son. His arm. The fact of where they had found him. And yet, still his denial worked like a poison worm through his logic and he wondered how Leonardo could have avoided what happened. He'd need to know. He'd need to address it with his son. Get to the bottom of where it had gone wrong. Because it had gone terribly wrong. He was supposed to be handed over to the Shredder and rescued a mere twenty-four hours later. If he'd behaved and acted appropriately, then the Shredder should have had no reason to punish him.

They had an honor-bound agreement. No harm. No harm was to befall either child. It was to be an even swap under that guarantee. For a brief second, he wondered if somehow the Shredder had seen through his duplicity and figured out that he was going to rescue his son back despite the agreement. Despite the honor of the signed contract. But he dismissed it. No, he was sure that the fault lay not in his plan but somewhere between Leonardo's arrival at the Foot headquarters and his rescue. Even as he placed the blame squarely on his injured son's shoulders, he felt his heart twist and stomach churn.

How did this all go so wrong? How could he have predicted this? It was so simple in his mind. A brief deviation of their lives to recapture something more precious than any of his adopted children could ever understand. They'd be angry. Yes, of course they would be. They'd be hurt. He knew this, accepted it and had rehearsed everything he would explain to them once Leonardo was home again. How he would smooth it over and make them see that it was a momentary burden to bear, nothing more. That he'd never truly betrayed Leonardo or any of them. That he could never do such a thing to his children that he loved so deeply. Almost as much as if they'd been his own flesh and blood. He'd planned everything so carefully in the weeks of meeting with the Shredder, in the long hours of the night when he wrestled with the possibilities of having his daughter back, having the second chance at knowing her, knowing how Tang Shen carried on in her, his love, and the fact that the transaction would cause pain to his sons.

But he trusted in Leonardo. He trusted in his eldest son to be smart enough to understand, once it was all said and done; to be strong enough to carry such a responsibility as he had in the past as the leader. To bear the burden of acting as sacrificial lamb for the greater good. Their family becoming whole. Because . . . once he'd rescued Leonardo, it would all be made clear. All his reasoning, all the planning. Leonardo, with his keen mind would grasp it and comprehend it. He would understand how he served the clan's best interest and it would be a source of pride for him to keep always in his heart. How he'd come to his father's aid, how he helped rescue his Master's lost child by enduring a short period of time under the false belief of betrayal and abandonment. All the gratitude and pride would be bestowed upon his son for enduring the seeming betrayal and acting appropriately, dutifully, by carrying the responsibility of the burden as befitting an honorable warrior. It was going to be a triumph of planning, loyalty and devotion. Instead it was complete failure. In every sense of the word. He had failed his son, but his son had failed, as well. If he'd only . . . if there was only some way to have known . . .

Splinter raked his fingers over his face. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He was to be unharmed. And though Splinter knew that there'd most likely be some violence towards him by the soldiers and even possibly by the Shredder, himself, he never imagined to what extent that violence might rise. He believed the lie because he needed to. It was the only way he could carry out this exchange. He chose to believe the lie and turn a blind eye to the truth in order to regain his daughter. He never thought it would go so far. He never thought the price could be so very high. His son's battered body, his son's disfigurement, his son's innocence.

Splinter clenched his eyes and pressed his claws into his forehead. A choked sob broke free before he could smother it. He couldn't be weak now. They all needed him to pull the family back together. Once again, Splinter had to singularly stitch the fragments of his life and everything that he held dear back together from the scattered remains of devastation.

"You know what really sucks?" Raphael asked as his bottom lip quivered and rubbed his aching wrist and arm.

Splinter gazed up at him. His eyes spilled forth his pain that might have been blood as much as tears. Spilling out all his sorrow and regret. And yet. His resolve to regain what belonged to him remained firmly in place. The Shredder had taken her from him, stolen away years of a life that should have been. It was within his right to reclaim her. He just needed his sons to forgive him for this, this terrible mistake. He needed some time to reconstruct his family from the rubble of these ruins before him.

"She doesn't even care about you," he finished with a break in his voice.

Splinter considered this. In an even voice that belied the torture he felt within he replied, "That does not matter. She is my daughter."

Raphael scooted away from him, heels digging into the floor. His face was a mask of betrayed anguish. "W-Well, Leo's your _son_," he spat and jumped to his feet.

He ran around Splinter to his room where the door slammed shut. Behind the door, Raphael braced himself as hard as he could, chest heaving, feeling the sting of tears spilling free. He lurched forward and turned his radio on, throwing the headphones up on top of his head, tuning the sound up as high as he could without making his ears bleed. He had to drown out the voice that was telling him that Splinter valued Karai as a daughter over the sorry excuse of freaks for sons that he'd been stuck with the last fifteen years. But the sobs broke free and he buried his face into his pillow and screamed.

* * *

Later Donatello finished cleaning up the bits and pieces of first aid materials, washing his hands, and covering his still sleeping brother with a light clean cotton blanket, he stooped to retrieve the quilt they had bundled his brother in from the Shredder's chambers. Michelangelo had left and Karai lay facing the wall. Not moving. A part of him wished she'd somehow died laying there and not for the first time he wanted to do something to her. Something violent. But he just stood there, clutching the vile blanket in his fists before he snapped out of his hazy delirium of fury and left the room before he did something out of character and something he'd regret. Because his logical side continued to reassert that it was not the girl's fault. But to turn blame where it belonged was too frightening. And none of it made sense. How could his father not have seen this as a possible outcome? Were they all that naïve and trusting to think that this madman was not capable of doing something as base as molestation or . . . rape?

He felt hollow as he stepped out into the living room, listening to Michelangelo crying softly and Splinter reassuring him that they would all get past this. Out of the corner of his eye, he just saw them moving into an embrace and something like a sneering bitterness crept along the edge of his reason. It stunned him, this sudden derision towards comfort, this cold spot inside him that was freezing him slowly from the inside out, numbing him as it splintered through his organs and limbs, chilling his heart and making his footsteps heavy and dull. He continued on his way.

He moved to the room behind their bedrooms, to the large metal contraption that served as something like a furnace that he and Master Splinter had rigged to bring heat into the main area of the lair and their rooms. He bunched the blanket up in his arms and held his breath as he brought it up to the open panel, doing his best to block out the scent of blood and sex that the material reeked of. He shoved it in with both hands, a short wordless shout of hatred burst from him as he did. The fabric caught quickly and began to blacken and burn. The heat increased but it wasn't enough to warm the wintry expanse spreading inside of him. The smell intensified and Donatello slammed the panel back into place, then stumbled back to crouch on his haunches, arms wrapped around his knees.

His shoulders bounced as the fire consumed the evidence of Leonardo's sexual assault, he felt the tears, but his fingertips lingered over his mouth, surprise raced through him as he discovered his lips were turned up in a smile. His strange mix of giddy laughter and bubbling sobbing erupted through his fingers. He pressed both hands to his mouth but couldn't stop.

It was all so ridiculous. It was all so futile. They were all so . . . so _stupid_. Master Splinter for letting his baby girl get taken in the first place, the Shredder for giving up his supposed daughter so easily, like she was a commodity to trade, Splinter again for accepting the offer so graciously; Leo for not standing up for himself; for just going along with it; without question; without a fight; the laughter erupted harder from him and the center of his chest squeezed with a frightening tightness, he was laughing so hard, he couldn't breathe. Then Splinter's face when they found him on the bed like that . . . used. His body all cut up like that, cut to ribbons, his private parts hanging out so pathetically, then finding out about his arm.

_"He raped you and cut off your arm, Leo!"_ Donatello's voice shouted in the quiet of the room.

Panting, he covered his mouth, the laughter died, abruptly cut off like someone had turned off a switch. His stomach roiled and he bent over and was sick all over the floor between his splayed knees. He braced himself up by his hands, palms pressing hard against the cool concrete bordering the spreading pool of his stomach contents. His abdomen seized and he gagged, spilling out nothing but bile; retching again, there was nothing more to give, but he heaved and heaved until, shaking, he wiped his dripping bottom lip and fell to one side, curling and rolling away from the mess. Not moving after that, staring at the air in front of his face, dry-eyed and still. His heartbeat counting seconds in the back of his blank mind.

* * *

Michelangelo jumped in Splinter's arms as he thought he heard Donatello's scream something. Splinter stiffened but did not let go. It was almost as if he needed the tender physical contact as much as Mikey did. Mikey pulled away, though and took one step away. Splinter's hand on his arm made him pause. He looked up at his father. He beloved father, whom he already forgave. Who he was so terribly frightened for and of. For he turned Leonardo over to their enemy so easily it seemed. Any one of them might be next. But even as that terror slid through him, he put on a brave smile, determined to not give in and believe the worst of his fears. Just the look in his father's eyes told him that Splinter was in pain. Almost as much as anyone else at the moment. He patted the hand on his arm, reassuringly and Splinter's expression softened. Mikey was happy to help him.

"Give him some space, Michelangelo. He just finished repairing your brother's wounds. I'm sure he is exhausted and spent. As we all are."

"Okay."

Splinter moved and pulled out a chair. He sat heavily into it. Mikey wiped at his eyes; crossed the kitchen and took the kettle off the burner and poured himself and his father a cup of tea. He set it down in front of Splinter who nodded his silent thanks, as he sat down next to him. He really wanted to go to Donatello, knowing that his pensive older brother never was one to act out or raise his voice unless really, really upset. But he was split in two. His father needed him, as well.

"Master Splinter?" Mikey asked tentatively. "You okay?"

The look on his father's face was so withered and drained that Mikey's throat reflexively swallowed. In that moment, he feared his dad was about to keel over from a stroke or a heart attack or something. He didn't think he could handle that on top of the stress that was going on around him. A tremor went through him as he pulled together his strength. He was glad that he decided to stay with his dad. He'd help Donnie later. A need to fill the silence between them had Michelangelo shifting in his seat.

"Why do you think they did that to him?" he asked. Now that he was speaking, it was as if he couldn't stop. "I mean, his arm . . . do you think maybe, he fought them? Maybe he was fighting the Shredder? That's probably why he was all sliced up like that. But why did they patch his arm up like that? Why bother if they were just going to hurt him more? Will Leo still be able to . . . train and stuff? With only one arm?"

Splinter reached out and placed a hand on top of Mikey's, stilling further questions. It was hard to do, but he pressed his mouth into a tight line to keep quiet. Master Splinter nodded.

"There have been great warriors in the past who only had one arm."

"Really?"

The childlike hope that sprang into his son's eyes at that comment made him cringe and hate himself even more than he already did. He ran a hand over his face. He wanted to recall the famed warrior's name, but came up with nothing; his mind a jumbled mess of scattered fears and broken thoughts. He would have to have Donatello look him up in one of their books on ancient Japan or the internet . . .

"Th-That's cool. I bet Leo would like to hear that . . . once he wakes up. That he doesn't have to stop training and stuff. And that he can still be a ninja hero, you know?" He looked desperately into his father's eyes, hoping for some kind of assurance. "That stuff's important to Leo. N-Not being a hero. I don't mean to say that Leo only cares about being a hero. Well, yeah, he does. But I mean, I-I mean . . ."

Splinter squeezed his hand.

"What Raph said in there . . ."

Splinter stiffened, freezing in place. Michelangelo kept his gaze carefully trained on the tea cup in front of him.

His voice dropped to a whisper, "You didn't really say that, did you? About it being Leo's fault that he was . . . he was . . ."

Mikey couldn't form the word. He barely understood what it meant, but knew it was BAD. He'd heard the term before on t.v. and in many of the dramas that he'd sometimes watch out of boredom when there wasn't anything actually interesting on television to see. It always involved dark alleys and quick cut-always of women being dragged off somewhere and then lawyers talking in hushed tones. But Raph had said the word in regards to what had happened to Leo. Splinter removed his hand from Michelangelo's and he felt the absence of the warm presence like a stinging slap.

He got up and moved to the refrigerator, pulling out a baggie with a sandwich and a small bottle of water. He turned away from Mikey without another word and moved towards the lab. Mikey sat there, wondering why Splinter was bringing Leonardo a sandwich when he knew Leo was still unconscious. Only realizing after a moment that the food was for Karai. His stomach did a strange flip flop and he felt like he was going to cry, only nothing came out of him. Nothing at all.

* * *

**A/N:** So, maybe you can see how each boy is handling this all and how it is already shaping them into the people they will become. Hardened and angry, cold and clinical, frantically superficial, almost shallow in turning away from deeper pain - hiding from it in the haze of feigned happiness... what will be the key to bringing them all back from the brink of collapse?

How much can strength be tested before it shatters beneath the weight?


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

Once Leo had been bandaged, sewn back together and rolled to the side of the room to recover and sleep, the lair fell into a heavy, oppressive silence. Karai hadn't expected to be left in the same room as Leonardo and wondered if anyone thought it was a bad idea. Not that she could really do any harm, still handcuffed to the cot. And she wouldn't, anyway. Hurt him. None of this was his fault. And besides that, he'd suffered enough while in the custody of the organization that she once held in high esteem. They preached honor at every turn. They extolled the higher virtues of purity and focused determination towards achieving goals. Purity. Goals. These sentiments coiled and writhed like a living thing inside of her body, cramping her with venom. She'd been proud of her place within the clan; was going to rule it one day, no doubt. It was her birthright. To take her father's place . . . her father.

The Shredder.

Guilt and disgust, anger and horror poured through her body to pool in her middle, creating a sick muddy torrent of mixed emotions. Poisoned thoughts. Shards of memories. The girls. The crying in the night that would wake her; confused and groggy and each time she'd brush away the nightmares. It was easier to believe the sounds were from her dreams and not really coming from down that hall. Not really coming from her father's room in the middle of the night. The pleading. The cries of pain. The Foot clan was built on a foundation of innocent blood, spilled in the most heinous of ways. She wouldn't go back there if they all fell on their knees and begged her. She would rather die.

She lay, facing the wall, her free arm slung across her face, her hand dangling over her shoulder. Her left arm was twisted behind her, her left wrist still held by the cuff, securing her to the cot's frame. She had no desire to attempt an escape, not now, maybe never again, she wasn't sure. There was nowhere to escape to, anyway. It was as if all the fire inside of her had been put out in one fell swoop, leaving her thick and sloppy inside, watery and weak. Nothing had a solid shape inside or out. Her eyes ached from the long withheld tears of a lifetime pouring free. Spilling out until there were no more to give. Karai couldn't believe how much her gluey eyelids ached after crying so much. How little relief it brought. Her heart was just as heavy as before. Just as confused and frightened.

And though the last thing she wanted to dwell on was her childhood and the role the Shredder had played in it, she couldn't help but focus there on that sore subject, like the tip of your tongue prodding the gooey wound near a tooth. Every act of discipline given to her reevaluated, every look, every touch – she shivered - every command, seemed to hold sinister double meanings. The world, once vibrant and full of every possibility, now was a colorless gray. Within the gray stalked a long shadow with piercing eyes and evil lustful desires; twisted and nightmarish.

She was lost in doubt and fear. She didn't know to whom or where she belonged. Didn't know who she was supposed to be anymore. Karai only knew that she would not go back. It felt as though she'd been carved out like a pumpkin and discarded, but she held fast to gratitude. He'd never touched her. Her chest tightened and she groaned from the pain.

"What a sick thing to have to thank god for," she whispered aloud and then clamped her lips shut, realizing too late that she'd broken the quiet of the room.

She peered over her shoulder at the form of Leonardo laying on the cot only a few feet away from her. She'd never been so scared in all her life as she was when they all finally left the room; left her alone with the wreckage of Leonardo's body; listening to the pained breathing and the occasional soft mewling that chipped cracks into the hard lining of her heart. Until she was left aching for his pain, despite her usual feigned disinterest and disregard for him. She couldn't look at him too long and dropped her eyes; feeling the weight of irrational but very real responsibility for the state he was in.

She lay, drifting between incoherent half-formed thoughts of what she'd learned of her fath- no, she did not want to think of him as that, not that. Not ever again. She clenched her hands to fists. The Shredder. He was only that. Nothing more to her. Never again. Still, the bulky weight of guilt continued to press her down into the cot. So heavy and real, it might as well have been cinderblocks laid upon her body.

There was nothing she could do to make this right. Was there? Perhaps, one thing. But even as she thought the word: _obedience_, she felt the phantom noose around her throat. It still would be better to be a slave to a kindly mutant than a willing servant to a disgusting fiend.

The sound of her own shallow breathing was in her ears, but suddenly intruding, the smallest of sounds pierced through. Karai's head tipped slightly up from the pillow, her cheek damp from the wet spot her tears had made. She didn't mean to tune in each time he moaned, but something in her couldn't make her stop from straining to hear him. Was she punishing herself? She chewed her swollen lip and relished the pain. Maybe she was.

If she had never been born, none of this would have happened. What a thing for her to think. Pathetic, she chastised herself, but it was without fire. Because the thought was true. All of this, in some way was because of her. It was at the same time, none of her fault and all her fault. She turned her head and slowly made her body follow. It felt stiff and sore as she sat up, rubbing at her shoulder.

"Mmmpf . . . meephf."

Leo made the sound again and she watched as his body flinched and jumped beneath the blanket. He shuddered and a shiver went through her. His legs kicked and the blanket slipped from him. Still chewing on her lip, she edged forward to the end of her cot. Her eyes scanned the criss-crossing bandages that covered his limbs; reminding her of a mummy's wrappings. Every inch of his arms and legs were bandaged. He was trembling and making that heartbreaking little sound. Karai had never heard any of them make such a noise before. Even when injured. And it was hurting her on many levels to see Leonardo this way.

He was their leader. He was so good. He didn't deserve what had befallen him. It was no way to treat a respected enemy. It was no way to treat anyone. The Shredder was a monster. She had lived under his shadow her entire life, looking up to him, following him blindly. She really was blind, she thought bitterly, for it to take something as horrible as this to open her eyes and see him for what he truly was.

He called them freaks. He called them abominations. When under his own flesh stood the true monster. Leonardo turned his head from right to left and back again, in jerking, slow movements.

Her eyes went to the blanket on the floor. She stretched and with the very tips of her middle and index fingers snagged the blanket. She bunched it up in her fist and straightened up. Her eyes widened as she heard the noises he was making turn to actual words. Slurred and mumbled, but clear enough to make out what he was saying.

"L-Lemme . . . mmmno. D-Don't . . . puh . . . mmphf . . ." he twisted his head to the side and Karai could clearly see his distress on his pinched face. She swallowed and made to fling the blanket back over him. It hit him and he jumped, yelping as though she'd just struck him with a shruiken. He shook his head again, kicked his heels, and much louder cried out, "No . . . No! Ple-ase! Ah-gah!" His teeth ground together. "Mmpf! No!"

Karai tried desperately to get the blanket back on him, making it worse with every failed attempt. She shook her head in mounting frustration and anger at herself. "I'm sorry. Oh, fuck already!" she hissed.

"What are you doing!?"

Splinter's outraged shout and flashing eyes had her quailing and jerking away until her back hit the wall and she flinched. The chain of her cuff rattled. The blanket and her attempts at making Leo more comfortable forgotten.

"I-I wasn't . . . I just . . . he knocked it off and I-I thought he'd be c-cold. I-I wasn't trying to hurt him."

He stormed into the room and tossed her plate at her. The food bounced and tumbled onto the bed as he rushed to Leonardo's side. Leo was squirming and crying now, loud sobbing gasps and pleas for the Shredder to stop. The sound of it had Karai covering her mouth and then pressing her shaking hand to her sweating forehead. She looked at the potatoes and sliced ham with a turning stomach. She wouldn't be able to eat. She had no appetite.

"Leonardo, be still. Be still."

Raphael stormed into the room and the energy he brought with him was dark and angry. Karai felt it come off him in waves. He cast his narrowed gaze at her and it was so full of loathing she dropped her eyes immediately, feeling her face flush. There was so much hate in that gaze, it seared her. But a wave of defiant anger rose up in her. She would not let this one intimidate her, especially if she was going to have to remain here with them. She'd have to show him that she wasn't afraid. That she would never be. Not of him or anyone. She tipped her chin back up but he was already next to Splinter near Leo.

"Raphael, I do not need your assistance. I suggest you go meditate on what we discussed earlier."

"No," came the growling reply.

Splinter spun on him and knocked him back with the heel of his hand. His heels scrambled back and he nearly fell to the floor, but righted himself quickly. Surprised hurt was replaced with fury on Raphael's face.

"You will not continue to defy me. Go to the dojo. Now. You will hold the weights out until I tell you to stop. Is that perfectly clear?"

Raphael clenched his jaw, fierce eyes bouncing back and forth as he and his master stared each other down but ultimately, the years of being the obedient child to Master Splinter could not be spurned. He was still his father. No matter how angry he felt. He still had a modicum of respect for Splinter, though it was dying a sure and steady death within his heart, replaced with a seething hurt that was simmering into a full boil, threatening to spill over onto himself and everyone around. He spun on his heel and marched out, throwing Karai another look. This time there was something beneath the hatred, a warning; a promise of violence to come; silent but ultimately clear.

Karai swallowed, feeling suddenly vulnerable beneath that look. _Watch him,_ her inner voice cautioned, _he wants to take this out on you. He's going to do something bad to you, if he gets the chance._

"S-Sensei?"

Karai gasped. The weak voice had Splinter whirling around. He fell to the side of Leonardo's cot.

"My son. You are awake."

Leonardo blinked, wondering why he was laying in the infirmary, wondering why his body was wrapped and aching. But mostly, why his left arm and hand were hurting him so badly, cramping and aching like it was caught in a machine's grinding metal spokes. He grimaced and his breath hitched and panted.

"You are in pain." He turned to rifle through the various bottles on the table near Leonardo. He shook his head in irritation. He'd need Donatello's help. He called for his son and Donnie appeared a moment later, casting nervous glances around until he spotted Leonardo's eyes and saw they were open.

"Oh my gosh! Leo, you're awake. Should I go get Raph and Mikey?"

Splinter shook his head. "He is in pain. I want you to give him," he motioned to the bottles, "something to help."

Donatello hurried across the room and grabbed a bottle and spilled two large white pills into his palm. He opened a water bottle and handed both to Master Splinter. Leonardo sat up and groaned. Master Splinter supported him and moved the pillows to help him into the upright position.

"My . . . arm and h-hand. Th-They hurt. A _lot_," he rasped from between gritted teeth, his voice rising into a whine.

Donatello exchanged a worried glance with Master Splinter.

"Leo," Don started but his voice died, too weak with the terror of having to tell his brother that his arm and hand could not be hurting because they were gone.

Leonardo stared for a moment at the water and then slowly, by inches, his eyes rose up to meet his father's, then, seeing the dread written there, he turned to look as he brought up his left arm. Instead of his hand, there was only space. The rest of his arm from the elbow down was gone. He made a soft desperate sound in the back of his throat as Splinter stiffened and Donnie grabbed his mouth. Leonardo stared at the absence of his limb for a few oppressive seconds and no one moved or spoke. It was as though they all held their collective breath; bracing for his reaction. He closed his eyes.

Shakily, he finally said, "Oh yeah." He swallowed and eased his arm down, trembling. Master Splinter saw a pearl of sweat break out on his son's head and roll down to his jaw. "I . . . They . . . h-he cut it . . . off." He blanched and Splinter thought he'd be sick, or pass out, but Leonardo managed to control himself. Blinking he turned his red rimmed eyes to his father. "Could I have that, now? I don't know why, but it . . . it hurts." A tear broke free and rolled down Leonardo's cheek.

"Yes. Of course." Splinter's hands shook badly as he handed the water to his son and then gently placed the pills into his boy's mouth; placing them on his tongue. His heart clenched painfully.

He swallowed and drank deeply. He closed his eyes and sighed. Then he opened them again and looked at Splinter.

"I'm . . . home?" he asked, feeling foolish for even asking such an obvious question.

Donatello stood behind Master Splinter. They nodded almost in unison. Leonardo considered the facts. His bottom lip trembled a little.

"_Why?"_ he whispered, staring at the water bottle in his hand, resting on his stomach.

"Not now, Leonardo. We will discuss it when you are stronger. When you can attend me in my room. Then you can tell me what went wrong while you were in the Shredder's custody."

He blinked in confusion at that and turned a somewhat fearful look at Master Splinter.

"What went . . . wrong?"

Donatello was staring at the back of Splinter's head with an intense frown.

"Yes. But you can explain what happened and why you were punished so, uh," he cleared his throat, "severely when you are stronger."

Uneasy thoughts stampeded through Leonardo's mind as Splinter straightened and he dropped his gaze back to the water bottle. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, but he sensed the cloying pull of guilt along the edges of his stomach. _I did something wrong?_ Images fluttered past his mind's eye. Hands gripping, pinning, yanking. Pain spearing into him, but something else. No. He didn't want to remember. But he did.

It came back to his mind with the force of a wrecking ball. Something terrible, shameful he'd done, as his hand . . . the Shredder's hand, slid and then dug between his legs; his fingers finding the shielding flesh and pulled it back, slipping his fingers to find him tucked safely away, but then stroking and caressing as he whispered into his ears; pornographic words, erasing his innocence, blotting his soul with spots of humiliation and shame that would never wash away. And still, rubbing and pulling . . . until . . . he couldn't help it. He emerged with a groan.

And then the feelings. The terror and pleading for him to stop as the waves of pleasure started. And the Shredder's breath on his neck, chuckling at him through it. All the while stroking, firmly, quicker and quicker until . . . it happened. The crippling pleasure, so horrible, as his body jerked and bucked through the pain, into it, somehow, splitting his mind in two; one side in agony, the other in the white wild haze of climatic release. Then as it was happening, worst of all, making that sound. That shameful, churring and the Shredder's laughter raining over him as it rolled out of him, unable to make it stop, the repeating rumbling reverberating sound of his debasement. Again and again. Over and over through the night. It happened. And each time as he lay panting between the Shredder's assaults, his fevered mind swore he would not allow it to happen again. He would not. But it was no use. He was weak. Leonardo's face flushed deeply.

The Shredder hurt him, kept using him all night; until he could fight no more, but lay there, hurting as the Shredder ground into him, splinting him into pieces with his body and his blades; but why . . . he shouldn't have responded like that . . . why did he . . .? A tremor went through him. He was so pathetically weak.

He shouldn't have allowed any of that to happen. He was disgusting. It was as if part of him had enjoyed it. But he didn't. He didn't want _that_ to happen. He just couldn't stop it. His body betrayed him. He had no control. He was no ninja. He had brought shame to his family in the worst possible way. And somehow, he suddenly knew, that was it. His Sensei knew. But how?

He wouldn't dare meet his father's eyes. He couldn't take what he knew he'd find there: disappointment, revulsion, shame. Something like glue moved sluggishly through his stomach. He'd failed. Somehow he was supposed to not have allowed this to happen and he failed. His searching mind tried to think of how he could have avoided the events. They were muddled up in his mind; the fight, the men in the bathroom, the blade, the Kraang, the Shredder, the bedroom, the floor . . . calling him Father. If he'd fought harder with the men . . . if he'd told the Shredder to kill him instead of being so weak and pathetic that he called him by that title. That was how he failed. He should have fought to the death. He should have never allowed the Shredder to make him his pet. His stomach knotted and his breath hitched.

Splinter clamped a claw on his shoulder, squeezed it painfully, snapping him from his thoughts. He cringed at the contact, shrinking back into the pillow propping him up.

"For now, rest. Tomorrow you should have strength enough to tell me everything," Splinter said and turned to go.

_Everything. He will make me tell him. He knows. But he's going to make me say it. He will make me say how my body betrayed me, but he will not believe me when I tell him I couldn't make it stop and then he will turn his back on me._ His heart began to pound and his left arm and hand throbbed and ached, itched and cramped. Leonardo started to tremble.

Donatello approached him and knelt next to the cot. His eyes roved over his brother's face, noticing how he was shaking and thought it was because of the pain he was suffering. "Hey, bro," he said and had to wrestle the tears back. Leonardo blinked rapidly and focused his glassy eyes on him. Then Leo gave him a ghost of a smile; stealing away his breath. He wanted to be strong for his brother; his brave, courageous brother who had just lived through the unimaginable and sat here, in terrible pain, trying to smile reassuringly at _him_. The world was spinning and he could barely remain upright. He wanted to say something. He didn't know what to say. But he had to tell him.

He opened his mouth and licked his licked his lips. Dry and drier.

Don wanted to tell Leo how glad he was that he was alive. That he was so impressed with how brave he'd been from the moment Splinter told him what was going to happen to the moment he opened his eyes just now. He wanted to tell Leo that he wished he could take it all away. To make a time machine so that he could steal him away before the dreaded past thirty-six hours or so never could happen. If only he were smarter. If only he could've talked sense into his father. If he'd been cleverer, he could've come up with a way to get Karai to join them, or even a way to steal her into the lair. But he didn't and he wasn't. Not then. Not now. He couldn't even think of what to say to his amazing brother sitting in front of him, enduring it all.

He wanted to tell him he wasn't alone, despite knowing that's probably exactly how Leo had felt these past hours. So alone. Afraid. Abandoned. He could at least try to make him know that they were so worried, every minute. Every second.

"Oh, Leo. We . . . We were all so . . ."

Splinter's sharp tone interrupted him, "Donatello, let him rest."

He turned his head but did not look at Master Splinter, feeling that strange chill go through him again. Suddenly engulfing him. Numbing away the confusion. Blotting out the pain. It was cold, but it didn't hurt. It was a comfort of sorts and he felt himself embrace it without consciously choosing. He should have been amazed at how easily he could suddenly switch off his emotions. He should have been concerned. But he wasn't. He was only cold. He stood up stiffly.

He said in an even voice, "I'll make you some broth."

Leonardo nodded and chewed his bottom lip, unsure if he could really eat anything, but not wanting to deny his brother's attempt at helping. Maybe if he ate, things would seem a little better. Broth. Warm broth. That sounded good, actually. He shook and shook and hoped the warmth from the soup would ease his trembling. Donatello left, following behind Master Splinter without another word.

Leonardo's eyes rose and locked with the only other occupant in the room. His galloping heart was in his throat and he felt dizzy and strangely, very afraid.

"I would hate me, if I were you," she said, her voice low and whispering.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry that took so long to update - I've written a couple of short pieces and added them to my Drabbles if you wanted to check them out in the interim. I will do my best to update this and I, Alone once a week. I appreciate your patience! xoxoxo


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

So, she was here. For a moment, he wondered why she was in the infirmary. Was she hurt? Confusion settled like ashes through his mind. Then he realized. They hadn't a room for her. Not yet. They would need to decide where she slept. They'd need to give her a room. A spike of dread hit him and for a second he wondered if Master Splinter had given her his room. It would make sense. There had been an agreement. He remembered. Honor clad, no refusal without tarnishing the clan's identity. His master had agreed to it. His sensei's honor was at stake and so there was no choice. And yet, here he was.

He thought back, before the nightmares came to be reality. His forehead pinched as he frowned with the effort of trying to remember. So much had happened. So much he wanted to forget.

Through the fog, the memory emerged. Splinter had explained that it was in the best interest of the clan to bring his daughter home, where she belonged. That her years of suffering under the lie of her birthright could not match his upcoming years of servitude under the Foot Clan. He remembered Splinter carefully avoiding mentioning the Shredder here. His master made it sound as though he'd be an exchange student. Studying abroad in a foreign country while his daughter, his blood, his true family, was returned to him.

Raph had teased him before, too many times, about his fears; of heights, of failure; naming him Fearless. He'd never felt such a surge of acute terror as he had when his sensei, his father, informed him that he was to replace the Foot clan's loss. He was to be exchanged for Karai's release. He was not to argue. Not to shame himself with questions dealing with the inevitable.

And obediently, Leonardo accepted it. All of it. As much as he could. On the outside he'd struggled to show his father how very willing he was to do as he was told, how very dutiful and honorable he could be. He would make himself understand what could not be comprehended: that he was something to trade. A freak, an accident, for something far more precious; a daughter. There was nothing more to it. He had made it all so reasonable. Spoken these terrible words with a calm, easy voice; like discussing the weather or the turn of seasons. The inevitable. The unquestionable.

He coped with the announcement as best as he could. He wanted to show his master how very stoic he was; how he could remain at ease and accept his fate. It was a game, almost. A challenge. That was how he framed it in his mind. He was being tested. His master needed to know how strong his student's spirit was; that was what this was. It had to be.

So, until the moment they dragged him away, Leonardo had done his best to wrestle back the doubts, the edge of panic that was beating at the horizon of his mind like a scattering flock of birds. When the reality of the situation hit him; full and terrible; he had never felt so lost, so broken, as he did in that moment. Little did he know that his fleeting experiences with terror and pain where about to be expanded upon and deepened; fine-tuned at the hands of experts in suffering, humiliation and horror.

And now he sat here, looking at his counterpart. He wondered what it had been like for her. Was she lost? Did she feel the sharp abandonment by those around her that she once called family? Strangely, the initial fear he felt at spotting her faded. That he was not alone in part of this situation gave him some much needed comfort; little that it was. He read her expression cautiously. Her own doubt and remorse, her own fear clearly exposed. He had his answer in the way she trembled. The dart of her eyes, wild and cornered. She was as cast aside and wandering, baffled and emotionally strained as he. He was not alone in this betrayal and abandonment. But he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to show her they were together. Adrift, but together in the same place. He suddenly felt an odd calm come over him. If you were not alone, could you truly be lost?

The soft response came before he could really consider her words or his feelings beyond that fleeting calm, that strange center in the eye of the storm of confusion, fear and doubt.

"I don't hate you."

After he said it, he knew it was true. He didn't need to examine his heart or search his mind. This was not Karai's doing. She was not behind this. But his mind slipped into the dark as he considered the responsible party. As he thought of Splinter, his mind forcibly rejected the image, nor could he think of the Shredder. Not now. It hurt too much. And yet, the two were tied, merged, morphed into an awful specter of deceit, betrayal and imposing cruelty. He could not think of one without the other emerging into his mind's eye. He was not ready to consider what this could mean. It loomed distantly, that dangerous comprehension, just out of reach. It would wait for him there. When he was ready to face it, it would be there; just as severe and shocking; just as appalling and soul crushing. For now, he had to turn away from it; turn his mind, his heart and his spirit in a different direction. Hoping, still so childlike, that if he did not look directly at it, then perhaps, it would vanish and he'd be spared of the dreadful anguish; spared of the monstrous truth.

Silence fell between them. They existed in a strained bubble of what they both knew; what they were both unwilling parties to. Karai ducked her head and with disinterest, she picked up the sliced ham and placed it back between the slices of bread; rolled the potatoes back up onto her plate. As she did, the short chain of her handcuff chinked. His gaze swept to the metal around her wrist. A soft frown formed around his eyes.

He sat up and winced. His bottom was sore. His limbs ached and burned behind the bandages. In places where his gashes were too deep and needed stitching, his flesh itched. But at least the pain killers had taken away the terrible pain in his left hand. His missing limb. The stump lay on his lap and he stared at it, with a mix of curiosity and sodden acceptance. He brought his right hand over and cradled it. It felt wrong to have nothing but space where his hand and arm should have been. He felt off balanced and ironically enough as if he were missing a piece of himself. Which he was. A humorless smirk played across his face before falling away.

Karai watched him carefully, warily. Unsure of what was going through his mind. Not trusting that he wasn't going to hurt her in some way for vengeance over what was done to him.

Her mouth opened, the words died before they emerged. She licked her bottom lip and tried again, "I'm sorry," it was a croak, a gasp. It wasn't worth saying for the weakness in its pronouncement. For the feebleness in light of the severity of the situation. But he was owed that. And so much more. More than she could give him. She had nothing now. Not even a proper name. Was she Karai or Miwa? Hamato or Oroku? Foot or . . . what?

He looked up again, and this time, there was a smile, brief but not imagined; a genuine smile. Sad and fatigued. Resigned. It stunned her into open-mouthed shock. It left her feeling strangely exposed. Nothing he could have said to her could have caused her to feel as guilty, as worthless, and as shameful as that delicate look. The lump came hard and huge into her throat, strangling her. She trembled and was frightened. Not for fear of herself coming to harm, not of his judgment or his anger. But the promise of forgiveness in that smile. Of washing away culpability, cleansing her of sin. She shook her head. She didn't want that. She wanted him to be angry with her. She deserved him to hate her. She deserved cruelty and punishment.

"No," she said in weak protest.

He continued to gaze at her with distant, but clear eyes. A storm that has blown over; leaving her shaken, laid bare but alive.

"You should . . . you should hate me," and the tears came into her voice, breaking it and she damned herself as she swallowed at that lump.

The urge to push him away rose up. To hurt him, to make him hate her, because that's what she deserved. The evil words were on her tongue, the acid pooling in the back of her throat; she planned on throwing it in his face that he'd been the Shredder's plaything. That he'd probably enjoyed himself. It would have been something she'd have flung in his face a few days ago, easily and without regret or remorse. But the wicked words shriveled, unable to thrive in the environment of her cleansed soul. Unable to stand in the light of that brief, but beautiful smile of forgiveness or understanding or whatever it was that emerged for a moment. Though it lasted less than a fraction of a second, its very existence shattered her. Changing everything.

Instead, she muttered to herself, "Fuck."

She had been ripped from everything she'd ever known. What she understood to be love was lies. What she thought was fealty was deception. What she'd known as family was a trap. What she had left was nothing. Nothing except . . . Her expression changed from angry and defensive to anxious as he brought one leg and then the other over the side of his cot. He bunched the blanket up in his fist and tossed it aside. Then, with a grimace he eased himself off the bed.

"H-Hey! What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed voice and stole a glance towards the door. Somehow she felt she'd get blamed if he'd managed to hurt himself. "Get back into bed. Right now!"

He cocked his brow to her before looking away, dismissing her concern as well as her order. He took several wobbling steps over to the counter and leaned heavily on it. He took in a breath and then another. His head swam and the edges of his vision darkened with frightening speed. He gulped and waited. His vision cleared. He began opening and closing the cabinet doors. Quietly but quickly. Then finding whatever mysterious item it was he'd been searching for he turned.

In his hand was a small dagger. Karai's heart leapt into her throat. She could not move as he limped across the room to her cot. Her eyes darted between the short gleaming blade to his face. He was not looking at her, but down. If she didn't know better, she'd have guessed that he was staring at her cuffed hand. She was sure then that he was about to cut her wrist. She braced herself, biting her bottom lip and even twisting it over to expose the soft white flesh of her inner arm. She deserved this. No one wanted her. She was nothing. Her existence brought only pain. At least she would be honorable, giving her blood in payment to this one's suffering and undeserved pain. Yes, she could give him blood in exchange for his suffering at the hands of her clan; at the hands of the man she once called Father.

"Do it, then. Make it fast," she bit out from between gritted teeth. She only hoped he'd hurry before her natural self-preservation kicked in and she fought him. Her opposite hand had already curled into a fist. It was taking all of her control not to strike him. Her entire life had been dedicated to survival and killing. If he didn't act fast, she would fight to live, despite her own desires to finally be honorable in this pathetic last attempt.

He sat next to her and said nothing. The moment stretched out, tense and foreboding. Holding his bound arm up against his body, he moved suddenly. He jabbed the tip of the blade into the key post of the hand cuff. With a grunt and a shove, he twisted the blade and the cuff clinked and then popped open. Karai stared at him, unable to move, as the metal fell away, dangling from the support of the cot. He took in a breath and set the blade to one side of his body. Out of her reach.

"Why did you do that?" she asked him, in wide-eyed wonder. Again, her eyes went to the door then back to him. She felt like a conspirer to a secret and dangerous plot.

"You're not a prisoner," he said in his tired voice. He added with a slight shrug, "You're home."

And again, the lump formed in her throat. And again she wanted to hit him. Strike him. Knock him off the edge of the bed and kick him over and over again. For being so foolish. So stupid. So stubborn. So very, very good. Her head dropped and she picked up her wrist and rubbed it. Michelangelo's bandage had helped. She was grateful for his kindness. And again the guilt assaulted her. Why were they all being so nice to her? She thought of the black look that Raphael had given her. The way the hair on the back of her neck had stood on end. Well, most of them.

But Leonardo's actions, she could barely comprehend. He was a mystery. He was in obvious pain, still. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over his neck and head. The exertion of just getting up and prying the cuff loose had taken a toll. But that was all. He really didn't intend to harm her. She couldn't grasp his motivations. Though the truth lay in the center of her mind and her heart, she just couldn't wrap her cunning mind around the fact of it.

He was so noble. So righteous. It made her head hurt. It made her feel unbalanced. It made her sick. It fascinated her. Intrigued her. Drew her to him. Because if the roles had been reversed, she knew, she _knew_ without a doubt, that she would not have been so merciful. She would have taken her advantage and cut his throat. Once. When they were enemies. Weren't they? Weren't they at one time on opposite poles for some reason? Her mind grew fuzzy. What was the reason she hated him so much at one point? Was it all based on the Shredder's poisoned words, turning her against them, against everyone that were not aligned to his whims? Turning her against her true family . . . this thought made her dizzy.

The world continued to grow wider and more foreign the longer she stayed among these mutants. It had once made perfect sense. Clear and irrevocable in stark black and white. Now everything was vivid; awash in colors that had no name. No identity. She was drowning in them. But alive in them. Alive in a way that was so real she could barely withstand the pressure of it. It made her skin prickle. She shivered.

He noticed.

"Are you cold?"

"No," she snapped, but it was without teeth. "I-I just don't understand you . . . why would you help me after . . . after what happened to you? I-I thought . . . I thought you were coming over here to . . . to . . ."

"I know what you thought," he said to the floor. "You were taught to always think the worst." He cradled his wrapped arm.

"And to do the worst," she murmured, staring at his arm.

She huffed and shook her head, dropping her hands into her lap. What he said wasn't entirely true. She was not taught to think the absolute worst. No. Not the worst. She had believed in the man posing as her father. That he could not be anything but gracious and god-like. Believed that he was perfection even with his cold demeanor towards her, always believing it was she that was not good enough for him. Not a strong enough warrior. Not a skilled enough fighter. But the Shredder, ah, he was her father . . . he was . . . her hero. Her chest pinched. All her heroes were dead now. And then, without bidding her eyes went to Leonardo sitting next to her and a voice whispered like a caress against a stone wall, _not all of them._

Her eyes burned suddenly and she shifted. She cleared her throat. Her gaze went to his arm. "Do you want . . . I dunno, to talk about what happened . . . to your . . . your . . .?" she trailed off.

He glanced at her then at his arm. He shook his head. She nodded. Then she scooted back to make more room for him, moving the plate aside. He slowly leaned back until his shell hit the wall. She bunched her knees up and rested her chin on the top of them, wrapping her arms around her legs and hugging them tightly to herself. She let her eyes rove over the multiple bandages covering his arms and legs.

She was not good at this, having no prior experience to draw on. She was never called upon to offer comfort, to give aid. To speak gently, to be tender. There had always ever been that which is hard. Be hard, inside and out. That was all that was needed. Cold. Emptiness. A void that had driven in her a need so fierce and terrible that she had become numb to it. She never even recognized it until the day she laid her eyes upon him. So beautiful and strange. So perfectly out of line with all of reality wrapped around him. And him standing there, glorious, and in perfect defiance of that very reality. The world had first shifted for her; had first become . . . new. Alive. Before the taint. Before the choice of darkness over light.

And here she was once again bathed in that glow of his defiant perfection and feeling eager to remain there. Since the moment her father announced she was no longer needed, she felt she could breathe again. And she did. She took in a deep breath and let it out, blowing out all the knotted confusion, all the old prejudices, remembering the joy of that first sighting of him. Recalling the grace of him. The light in his eyes that now was dimmed but still remained. She licked her lips and decided to try, at least, to begin to mend things between them. Hoping that somehow they'd find that path that they'd started on in the very beginning but lost. It was not an easy thing to do when traveling unknown territory, rife with danger and doubt and hatred and fear at every turn. She had to try, though. She owed him that much.

"So . . . he brought you back. That's a good thing, right?"

He cracked open one eye, then the other. He looked at her, then stared out in front of himself into the room.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "No one wants me back. He made that clear."

Leo turned his head and frowned. "Splinter?"

"No. My, uh, the Shredder. He said that I had served the Foot clan to my full potential and the time had come for me to go home. I was no longer useful. No longer needed," her voice caught and she shook her head.

"He said that?"

She huffed. "Yeah." She picked at the bandage on her wrist. "So, does this make me your, uh," she snickered a little, "sister?"

Leonardo closed his eyes. "I don't think so. You're my . . . master's daughter. I'm just . . . his student." His face darkened.

She quickly tried to salvage the moment by attempting to joke, "Oh, so the big rat isn't related to you turtles, huh?"

The joke sank as Leonardo was already lost in his thoughts. The shadow on his face looming, blocking out the light that she had just glimpsed. She didn't want the moment gone so quickly. This strange, bonding, if that's what it could be called. She reached out to him and with her fingertips, she brushed the side of his bicep. He jumped.

He gasped,_ "Don't!"_

"Get away from him!" The bowl shattered against the floor as Donatello dropped it and rushed to Leo. He shoved Karai back and wedged himself between Leo and her. Raphael and Michelangelo ran inside the room a second later, brought by the sound of the breaking dish.

"The fuck is going on . . . Leo!? What are you doin' up?" His face shot around. Then he noticed that Karai was free. He marched over to them. Donatello turned to explain what he saw when he was shoved aside as Raphael grabbed Karai. She kicked and thrashed as he dragged her off the cot to the floor. He brought his fist back but was grabbed by Mikey.

"No! Stop! Stoppit, Raph! Stop!"

"She was gonna hurt him! I knew it! The little bitch!"

Michelangelo pulled Raph off him as Karai scrambled backwards until her back struck the cot. She felt hands lifting her and she looked into the startled face of the purple banded brother. His grip tightened and for a moment there was a flash of fury in those blank, chocolate colored eyes. A spark of molten danger.

"I didn't do anything to him!" she shouted, voice cracking. "I-I swear! He came over here and unlocked me and we-we were just talking!"

He didn't look convinced but glanced at Leonardo as he released her down onto the cot.

"She didn't," Leonardo's weak voice had everyone suddenly freeze. "She didn't do anything wrong."

Mikey clambered off Raph and Raphael sat up. There was a beat of silence and then all three brothers were closing in on Leo. Their voices talking over one another, they volleyed questions and worry towards him. "Leo!" "How ya feeling?" "Why are you up?" "Leo, what are you doing out of bed?" "Do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

Leo held his severed arm close to his body, feeling overwhelmed and shaky by their proximity and their aggressive concern. He just needed a moment to catch his breath. Karai had startled him. That's all. That's all.

"I-I'm okay. Yeah, I'm . . . I could use some rest, I guess. No, I'm good. I-I don't know. Yes?" He gulped and did his best to calm his racing heart. He stepped backwards, towards his cot, knees knocking. His brothers followed, a mix of happiness and worry on each of their faces. Crowding close to him.

Leo put up his hand. "R-Really. I just . . . I didn't think Karai should be cuffed to the bed," his voice rose and there was anger within the tone. His brothers froze at the sound of her name and the change in his tone. "I-I mean, she's supposed to be living here, right? This is her rightful home. Sh-She shouldn't be tied up like . . . like some criminal. Or . . . or something . . ." he felt faint and sat heavily on the edge of the cot. His brothers exchanged wary glances.

Splinter had come into the room at some point. When he spoke, Leonardo's younger brothers jumped in fright.

"You are correct, Leonardo. But you should have allowed me to set her free when the time was right."

Raphael's face snapped towards Splinter. "You can't be serious."

Splinter turned his head away from Raphael. "You should be completing the chores assigned to you as punishment for disobedience and disrespect, Raphael. Why are you here?"

"I heard a crash and came to check on my brother!"

"Don't start yelling, Raph!" Mikey hollered and shoved Raphael back. Raph smacked his hands away and growled at him. Donatello stood immobile, watching, detached, with a slightly confused look on his face.

"You think it's a good idea to leave her loose!? The first chance she gets, she's gonna hurt Leo, I know it!"

"No she isn't," Mikey insisted.

"Why do you trust that little bitch!"

"Raphael!" Splinter snapped.

Mikey yelled again and stood between Raph and Karai, he pointed at her behind him, "This isn't her fault!"

"You know what, Mikey. You're right!" He turned his snarling face to Splinter. "This is your fault!"

"No! Raph! Don't!" Mikey shouted and his voice was pleading, now. Desperate.

He lunged towards Splinter and in a flash of motion, Splinter gripped Raph by his wrist, pivoted and twisted it up high behind him up onto his shell. Raphael cried out in pain and Splinter knocked his legs open and he went down with Splinter bracing one knee on his shell. Raphael's growl turned into a startled whine of pain. His free hand clawed at the floor, knocking against Leonardo's foot. He jerked at the contact.

A soft whimper came from Leonardo, "S-Stop." He stood shaking; face gray, eyes wide as he watched them. "Please. Please, don't."

Splinter twisted his defiant son's wrist and Raphael bit back another cry of pain. He screwed up his face and panted between his gritted teeth.

"Enough, Raphael. I will tolerate none of this disrespect. To me or to my daughter. She is here to stay. You will respect my authority and do as I tell you. Now, again, to the dojo."

"No! I-I . . . hate her! This is all her fault!" he cried out, voice thick with tears and fury.

Splinter pressed down harder, trying to get his aggressive son to submit. They would not be able to move forward if Raphael continued on this path. Chaos lay ahead if he could not control his temperamental student. Michelangelo and Donatello had come to grudgingly accept the situation. It was Raphael that continued to be the source of upheaval. He did not want to hurt his son. But he had to make it clear that his authority would not be compromised. Not with Karai's life at stake. Not with the future of their family at stake. As Raphael struggled again to free himself, Splinter struck a pressure point in the join between his shoulder and neck.

Raphael's body constricted and he let out a broken yelp of surprise and pain.

The sound of it was too much for Leonardo. "No! Let him go! Let him go!" Leonardo's shouts were followed by him barreling into Splinter. Splinter's shock was overtaken by instinct as he brought his knee up and took the weight of his battered son up and over his body. He threw Leonardo head over heels, flipping him across the room where he landed with a pained grunt into the shattered bowl and dripping pool of soup. He skidded forward on his shell until his legs smacked against the wall, stopping him. He rolled to one side, moved to get up and collapsed with a groan; curling on his side; making that mewling sound that hit Raphael like a steel pipe.

"Leo!" Mikey's scream was pure anguish.

"No! No! What the fuck!" Raphael sat up on his knees, trembling all over from the nerve pinch and the horror of what just happened. He could not stand up, but crawled quickly over to his brother.

Donatello stood by, frozen, unable to think, unable to process the mess that was his family. Feeling his heart hammering physically in his chest, but strangely disconnected from his mind which seemed to be far away, viewing this all through a long tunnel. Splinter gathered his wits and rolled to his elbow and knees then he dashed to Leonardo's side. Raph grabbed the sleeve of his robe and yanked at him.

"Why'd you do that!? Why!?" His eyes were wild and glassy.

Splinter shoved him to one side. He fell back with a moan. Mikey crouched next to him, tearful and shaken.

"My son, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? My son," he murmured as he helped Leonardo sit up. Leo moaned, eyes clamped shut, mouth in a grim line of pain. Splinter gathered him into his arms and held him tightly. Leonardo squirmed in his embrace, fighting to free himself, but unable to do more than writhe in pain and distress.

"Be still, my son. Be still. Forgive me, Leonardo." He rocked his son, unaware of his embrace being the furthering of Leonardo's terror and panic. Over his shoulder he snapped at Donatello.

"Clean this up. Raphael, to the dojo, immediately. Michelangelo, help Miw- . . . help Karai."

Everyone turned to look at Karai who sat on the cot, fists in her hair, shaking and upset. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Raphael climbed to his feet. His legs shook and his neck ached, but instead of brushing away the pain, he absorbed it, adding it to the rage he felt building inside of him. He wiped his jaw with the back of his fist. He veered close to her as he exited the room. Under his breath he snarled, "I'm gonna make you sorry."

Mikey caught part of what his brother had whispered and frowned. He didn't like the animosity that was steadily building inside his brother. He knew that Raphael was switching between being mad at their father and being mad at Karai. He wished he would just go pound the heavy bag for a while and let everyone catch their breath. But he knew that wasn't going to happen. He looked at Karai. And felt protective. He climbed up onto the cot and knelt next to her. He sniffled and wiped an eye, doing his best not to break down and add to the emotional upheaval going on around him.

"You okay?"

"He wanted to get the cuff off me. I-I didn't ask him to. I-I didn't want him to-to do anything for me. And I didn't do anything to him," she said and didn't even care that her voice was shaky and carried a whine-like quality. Sounding like a child fighting tears. She didn't care that she wasn't being strong and mean and tough. She just wanted Leonardo to be okay. When he tackled his sensei and Splinter sent him flying through the room, Karai could barely believe her eyes. Mikey pulled her into a tight embrace. She stiffened and then gave up; melting into his warmth; realizing that a hug was exactly what she needed most at the moment.

"I know. I believe you, Karai. It's okay."

Behind him, Leonardo and Master Splinter were standing. Donatello knelt into the broth and started to pick up the broken pieces of the bowl. He felt only regret that he didn't have a chance to give some to Leo. Vaguely, he felt the ghost of the regret morph into something like sadness. He considered it for a moment before the fleeting feeling left him. He blinked, feeling nothing at all. It was safer that way. Not to pick sides. Not to feel all the pain and fury that was steadily being buried beneath layers and layers of mindless, numbing activity. Better to be busy. More helpful that way. He stacked the cracked glass onto one palm. A brittle edge caught the thick part of his thumb. A line of red appeared. He stared at it, feeling the sharp bite of the cut physically; feeling only mildly curious, emotionally.

"I cut myself," he said distantly.

Master Splinter glanced at him then turned back to Leonardo.

"I-I'm okay," Leo told him through a face that was pinched with obvious pain. His wounded arm throbbed. His thighs trembled and he felt the first trickle of blood tickling along his tail. He wanted to go to the bathroom before anyone saw it. He blushed and shook his head. He took a step back, but Splinter caught him by the shoulder. He turned him and escorted Leo back to the cot. Meekly, Leo followed, limping alongside him. He laid him down and covered him.

"My son. Things will settle down. Change . . . Change of this nature is not something that comes easily. There are adjustments that need to be made. But I promise it will return to normal again. Raphael has always been . . . temperamental . . . emotional. You must set the example in remaining calm in front of your brothers."

"Hai, Sensei," came the automatic response.

"In the morning, I will explain everything to you and you can tell me what went wrong at the Foot headquarters. Not that it matters, now. For you are home." Splinter patted his shoulder.

Leo gazed up at him with wide blue eyes. Beneath the blanket, he held his stump. Sharp shooting pains were lancing through him, from his bottom up through his stomach. He felt the heat spread as the torn wounds inside him bled. He wouldn't be able to hide the evidence from them, he realized with some shame. There would be blood on his blankets tomorrow but there was nothing he could do about that now. He would have to face all of his humiliation in the morning. All of it.

And a tremor went through him as he digested what his master was saying to him. He was expected to get over this. To move on and be like he was before. But he wasn't like he was before. He was broken and disfigured. He'd been the sexual toy of a monster through the long hours of the night. He'd called him father as he was raped. Begged him to stop but climaxed into his abuser's hand over and over again. Each time, the shame was like a burning brand searing into his soul, burning holes through it. But there was something that was eating at him, a question he needed the answer to. One of many, but those could wait.

"M-Master Splinter?"

Splinter turned back to him. "Yes, Leonardo?"

"The Shredder told me . . . you signed . . . that there was an contract. Honor bound." Splinter shifted where he stood. "That you were to hand me over in order to bring Karai home."

Splinter nodded feeling irritated. "You need to rest now, my son."

"B-But I just . . . why did you . . . you told me that I could not . . . that honor clad agreements could not be broken without bringing dishonor to-"

"Enough," Splinter snapped and his eyes flashed. Leonardo quailed, but did not break his eye contact with his master. This in itself, an act of will, an exhibition of a spirit not quite broken. Splinter did not know whether to feel ashamed or proud. He sighed heavily. "Some things the strict confines of honor cannot be applied to."

"Like . . . family?" Leo asked quietly.

"Yes. Like family."

Leo nodded and after another moment Splinter turned to Karai. "If you wish, you may spend the night in Leonardo's room."

Behind him, Leo closed his eyes.

Karai stared at him, a long level look. "If it's okay . . . master . . . I would prefer to sleep here."

"Very well. Michelangelo, come."

He moved from where he was crouched, placing a band aid on Donatello's hand. He picked up the rag that he'd used to mop up the spilled broth. Don stood up behind him. Hands full of broken pottery. The three of them left the room. As soon as they were gone. Karai scooted to the edge of her cot, then raced over on the balls of her feet to Leonardo's bed. Tossing quick glances in the direction of the door. She pressed on the mattress. He turned his head and opened his eyes.

"Hey," she said softly. "Do you need some pain killers or something?"

He shook his head.

"That was kind of crazy." She let out a nervous laugh. He blinked at her. "Do you think you can, um, walk?"

He frowned.

"Well?"

"Why?"

"Why do you think? I'm going to help you escape."

* * *

A/N: Don't forget that the Adult Fanfiction Awards are now taking nominations - through March 8th 2013 - the email to send the noms in is on my deviantart profile page and also in the Naughty Section of the Stealthystories website - Stealthystories DOT prophpbb DOT com. Both links are on my ff profile page if you want to check them out. This is a great chance to nominate stories that couldn't make the regular competition due to mature content, such as sex, rape, dubcon, etc. All the rules and categories are listed, so please check it out! You don't have to be an author to send in noms or vote!

I appreciate all the wonderful and interesting feeback I'm getting. I'm so happy you're enjoying this ride! Much more to come - so stay tuned! xo


	12. Chapter 12

'And all the roads we have to walk are winding  
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding.  
There are many things that I would  
Like to say to you  
But I don't know how

Because maybe  
You're gonna be the one that saves me  
And after all  
You're my wonderwall' - _Wonderwall _Oasis

**Chapter 12 **

* * *

Leonardo gazed up at Karai, "Escape?"

She nodded, sucking on her split bottom lip. The metal tang of blood coated the tip of her tongue.

Leo stared for another moment, eyes calm and level, before he said, "This is my home. Why would I want to leave?"

"What do you mean, why? They gave you away. To your enemy. Why would you want to stay here after that?"

Leo looked away. His breath exhaled in a small sharp puff; as though he'd just been struck. His fingers played along the edge of the stump of his arm. A dull pain flared. His stomach turned and he stopped, resting his hand on his stomach, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse beneath his plastron. He cleared his throat.

"Where would we go?"

Karai jumped at his consideration of the idea, hesitant as it was, it was still something. "Anywhere we wanted," she replied and she meant it. She scooted her feet closer and she leaned forward, trying to catch his eye. Where earlier the thought of being on her own in the city made her frightened and feel small, there was nothing to fear when she imagined being with him. The depth of comfort just the thought of his presence in her imagination brought was something she took for granted. She didn't question why it was; didn't look too closely at what it meant. What it could mean. What it signified about her feelings for him.

"It'll be great. No one could stop us. We'd survive. On our own terms. No more masters. No more deceit. No more lies."

Leo turned his head back to her and looked into her eyes, listening. Her face was lit with the glow of possibility and irrational hope. Cheeks flush slightly. In the dim light coming from the other room, her head and body were partially in light shadow, but he could make out her eyes, her mouth; the curve of her cheek. He could feel the heat from her body, standing so close to him. And there was another moment of that flicker of panic that raced through him, but it passed. She was human, but so unlike the men at the Foot headquarters, he instinctively did not fear her. In fact, it was the opposite, he discovered as he found himself leaning slightly towards her. As she spoke, her voice was low and conspiring, much like how she'd speak to him on the roof tops when they'd encounter each other, lightly spar until it became a straight up fight and then, sometimes tease and joke. He watched her lips moving, followed the words spilling from between them. He soon lost track of what she was saying.

He remembered making her laugh. The way the sound of it drove tingling ripples over his body like he was a small pond and she, the breeze, flowing over every part of him, leaving nothing untouched. He shivered as darker thoughts intruded on the sweet memory. Ugly. The groans of the men echoed in the back of his mind; piercing the bubble of his tentative moment of comfort. The Shredder's mocking laughter the first time he'd ejaculated despite his terror and pain; the coarse manipulation of his body bringing it through the natural fruition of such stimulation. Under the awful circumstances, however, it felt anything but natural. Just another affront, another degradation of his already battered, abused, aching body. Just another thing the Shredder took from him without his consent.

He swallowed dryly; doing his best to ignore the twisted images his mind was conjuring; focusing instead on her voice, pinning all his concentration on it. Listening hard, now. To every word she was saying.

She went on, "We could live however we wanted. Think about it, Leo. No one would tell us what to do or how to live. It would be so sweet."

She paused and licked at her lip, his eyes focused on the pink of her tongue and he felt uncomfortable as a mix of feelings ebbed and flowed inside him. The darkness welled, but he pushed it back, listening, hearing more than her words, hearing what she was saying to him. Really hearing it. Absorbing the message in full. Her voice was like a lullaby and his body grew heavy and relaxed as she spoke of this imagined life they'd have. If she was blind to what she was actually saying; to the picture she was painting for him; he was not; to him it was vivid and clear. A beautiful picture to hang over the gaping cracks in the wall of his soul.

Her words had a strange effect on him. He could see it. He could believe in this, this place she was creating, where they'd have only each other, depend only on each other. Protect and look out for each other. Love each other. He wanted to believe in it. Wanted to so badly. He was hurting so much right now. In so many ways. To run away now, to leave the terror and fear and simmering hatred behind. It was so tempting.

The truth was that it was actually something he'd dreamt of those nights when the loneliness became too large, threatening his meditative calm. Something he knew could never be in his rational mind. It was out of his reach. She was part of the enemy clan. But now, to have it suddenly offered, his secret wish brought out into the open, exposed to the light of reality, to see it for what it was, what it could only ever be; simply a wish. A dream. An impossible one. And yet, she was genuine in her offer; so it seemed. It made his aching head spin, this admission, even if she didn't seem to really realize herself what she was saying to him. That she'd go with him. Escape. With him. Him alone. Him and her. Together. Did she really not hear herself?

Slowly, still unsure of her and what she really wanted from him; unsure of his own reaction to being close to someone after what he'd just gone through; he moved his hand from his stomach under the blanket and reaching tentatively, he placed his fingers on top of her hand where it rested on the cot. Immediately she turned her hand over, without even looking at it and her fingers curled around his, squeezing affectionately. Leo felt his heart stumble. She was serious. She would go with him. They could do this. They could really live that life. That beautiful dream could be theirs. He just had to say yes.

"Don't you get it? They don't want us, and you know what? We don't need them," she finished in a forceful whisper; eyes flashing.

Leo blinked once as the last words she said hit him, then sighed. It was a soft sound. He allowed himself another second or two to pass while he remained in that beautiful, impossible world. Where only he and she existed. Together. Alone. Then he came back to Earth. The descent from heaven back into the pain, the restrictions, the burdens and responsibilities, the truth. His hope incinerated upon reentry. His love for her remained, though, completely unscathed. But love did not release him from the burden of what he was or who he was. It only complicated matters.

He shook his head. "I will not leave my family, Karai."

She stiffened. "But after what he's done to you . . ."

He said nothing, but stared stonily up at the ceiling. The silence stretched out. She remained there, staring at him. The tension grew and he could feel her protests, silent but heavy, pressing to be freed from her mind. But she matched his stubborn silence. And he felt the moment she realized there was nothing she could say or do that would change his mind. A shift in the air between them. A nearly silent exhale, a surrender. Resignation without a sound.

There was his honor at stake and even Karai understood that Leonardo would not act a coward and flee from his dutiful responsibilities. He'd made that clear to her before. Many times. She had tried to sway him in times past and hadn't succeeded. But then, it was for selfish reasons. This time, she had really only wanted to take him from this place. Away from a master that had hurt him the way her own had hurt her. False fathers. _Liars_, she thought vehemently. But the anger slipped away, she was suddenly exhausted and tears were burning the back of her eyes. She thought she was offering him something good. She thought she could redeem past wicked deeds that she'd done to him by assisting in his escape.

By inches he felt her let go of his hand. From the corner of his watering eye, he saw her turn, shoulders down. A jolt of doubt went through him, then. And he feared that she may leave without him. Wasn't that what some of her speech had really been about? The fact that she was going to leave and wanted him to come with? Would she go without him? Would she leave him here? To face all of this alone? The thought turned his blood to ice and a tremor went through him. He needed her. Here with him.

And in that moment of fright he nearly reached out to grasp the back of her shirt, to tell her he'd changed his mind. That he would go wherever she wanted. Just as long as she didn't leave him. The moment was slipping away. He clenched his jaw. Eyes widening. Could he really leave his family? What about his brothers? He held onto the blanket, gripped it tightly in his fist, squeezing until his knuckles were pale, until he saw her move to the cot and lay down. He drew in a hitching breath. Only then did he relax. Only then did he exhale.

* * *

When he woke up his body was on fire. He gasped and struggled against the blanket. His limbs cramped and quaked. He cried out. Swung his head back and forth. Where was he? The darkness was around him, hands were on him, holding him down, hurting him. He shook and growled. Arched his back as much as his shell allowed. Kicked his legs. But they wouldn't stop. His body shook with rage and indignant fury.

And then he heard the Shredder's voice in his ear, felt his breath on his neck. And he fell to trembling like a frightened child. Quailing, shrinking in on himself, he pinched his eyes tight. But the Shredder's imposing presence remained. The ghoul would not vanish so easily.

'Say it again, my son,' he said, his voice a rumbling sound against his ear.

Leo moaned and thrashed against the stone floor, unable to do more than writhe and cry. His fingers snaked around and tightened against the front of Leo's throat. Stars were circling in his vision and then he felt the Shredder's other hand . . . stroking, pumping . . . felt the waves of disgust flow up and over the rocky surface of his physical reactions; tasted the bile, acidic and burning in the back of his throat; felt the coiling in his lower regions tightening despite his pain, despite not wanting to; the horrible pleasure along with his fingers squeezing his throat making him gag, tighter . . . faster . . . he didn't want to . . . he didn't want to . . .

'Say it. Speak it and I will stop.'

Nodding, ready to believe anything, any lie to make his shame end, he blurted out between his groaning gasps, _'F-Fath-er, Fa-ther!'_

But he didn't stop. He lied. And Leo was a fool. He went faster. Harder. Until his body clenched, jerked and shuddered. Until he spilled out of himself, over his abuser's hand, onto the stones. Leo moaned piteously and sobbed. The Shredder laughed.

"Shh."

_"N-No!"_

Hands patted at him. He moved to punch with his left hand, forgetting it was gone. But the arm was thrown aside and his lurching body was caught and propped up. He struggled and flailed. He growled and grunted, bucking and kicking his heels, striking nothing but the mattress beneath him. But he was on the floor. Wasn't he? Where was he? He tossed his shoulders, but was held back. He bucked again and slammed into something solid but malleable. He heard a soft intake of air. Someone was next to him! He thrashed harder.

"D-Don't! _Don't_!"

His fingers groped and he couldn't understand why he could only feel his right hand, couldn't understand why his left was hurting so much. His arms shot out and he groaned as his left struck brick. Quaking in pain, he curled over himself, moaning. The agony roped up through his shoulder and into his back. Throbbing. Coursing bright and terrible. His breath shuddered out from between gritted teeth, spraying foam over his bottom lip.

His head was suddenly pressing against something soft, through his terror he heard the steady, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat, felt small arms going around him. Smaller hands gripping him gently, but firmly. He went rigid, whimpering, but soon the realization dawned that the person was not hurting him. He settled himself to laying still as much as he could; panting, wide eyes darting around, confused and scared, as he felt someone gingerly lean him back. The mattress beneath him shifted and he was cradled against someone behind him; legs and arms holding him. Soft hands stroked his shoulders while slender arms criss-crossed over his chest, making him feel less confined and more comforted. Protected. He trembled and blinked in the darkness. A soft mewl of confusion broke from him. He felt a soft cheek rub against the top of his head.

"Shh."

Then her scent wafted over him. Comprehension dawned. Karai. Karai had him. Was embracing him with her entire body. Too tired to feel embarrassed, too exhausted to feel anything but surrender, he slumped against her. Allowed her to hold him. Succumbing to the comfort she was offering to him.

"You're okay, now," she said quietly, lips against the side of his head. "You're okay."

He believed her. He sniffled once. And in that instant, he let go. Tears drying on his cheeks, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Donatello opened his eyes. No sound had brought him out of his light slumber, his brother was silent as he was trained to be, despite his bulk. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest at an awkward angle. Don's eyes rolled to look up at the clock on the shelf near his bed. He blinked.

"Four a.m.?"

Raph looked at him, then drew his gaze back to the floor. Donatello sat up, rubbed one eye with the heel of his left hand.

"Do you . . . need something?"

Slowly, Raph unfolded his arms. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and presented his hands, palms down to Donnie. The knuckles were ravaged, swollen, split and bleeding. Donatello climbed out of bed.

"What happened to you?" he hissed, and switched on the overhead light. He moved towards where Raph remained; taking his brothers hands into his and peering closer. Donnie looked up. Frowned sharply. "Did . . . Did Splinter do this to you?"

Raph shook his head, "No."

Donatello, sadly, did not look convinced and the doubt in his brother's reaction hurt something deep inside of Raphael. He sighed, aggravated but also a little depressed.

"I sort of punched my wall a little."

Donatello dropped his hands and turned to fetch the first aid kits he housed under his bed. They each had their own. Donatello had insisted that spare kits be stored all throughout the lair. Their lives were unpredictable and dangerous. Besides that, if it was something that could wait until more decent hours to be attended to by him, he preferred them doing some of their own first aid.

"Raph."

He moved to sit in Donatello's computer chair. He glanced at the laptop, and noticed the string of text messages that his brother and April had shared last night. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"You didn't tell April, did you?" he asked and the question had an edge to it that made Donnie pause.

Slowly he replied, "No, Raph. Not yet. I wasn't thinking it was something to text about. Given the gravity of the situation."

Raph nodded, satisfied.

"But she'll want to know what happened to Leo's arm." Raph looked away. "She's part of this family, Raph."

He set his mouth to a grim line. "I know, Donnie. It's just . . . so fucked up," his voice cracked and Donatello felt, for the first time, some real emotion stir. It was small and distant, but real, nonetheless. Instead of feeling relieved, however, Don felt slightly irritated. He set to wiping Raph's self-inflicted wounds with antiseptic drenched cotton balls. Raph didn't even flinch though Don knew it stung.

As he wrapped his hands, Raph looked at him, green eyes glassy. "Aren't you going to tell me it's gonna be fine or something?"

Don was quiet for a bit. Knowing that Raph was not talking about the state of his knuckles and fingers. Then he replied, "What would be the point in that?"

Raph looked crushed, then his face darkened as he looked away.

A soft aggravated sound had them both turn towards the doorway. Mikey stood there. Don dropped his eyes down. He packed up the first aid kit with slow deliberate motions.

"The point? Are you guys serious?" Mikey took two steps into the room. There were dark circles under his eyes. It was obvious that he hadn't slept. "How can you talk like that, Donnie?"

Don looked up at him with a blank expression. He felt himself shrug. Raph rubbed one line of neatly wrapped bandages on his opposite hand.

"Donnie's right. Everything's fucked."

"No. Donnie's not right, Raph. Donnie," he huffed and pointed at them both. "And you, Raph. You and Donnie are wrong. Don't you get it?"

They blinked owlishly at him.

"Leo's the one who's been through . . . well, he's been through _hell_ and you're in here talking about there being no point in hoping things will get better!"

His voice rose by the end of the sentence to a near shout, chest heaving. Donnie and Raph exchanged shocked glances with one another. Then each of them swept their gaze to the floor.

"Master Splinter made a mistake, okay?" Mikey's voice now took on a pleading, hoarse tone that sounded like he was fighting tears. "He made a big one. B-But I think he was just trying to put his family back together, you know?"

Raph's jaw worked and Mikey caught the familiar sign that his brother was not having it. He muttered under his breath, "Mistake," and shook his head in revulsion.

"Well, what if it were one of us? What if it was you, Raph? Like, taken or kidnapped when you were little and Master Splinter found out. You sure would want him to come and rescue you, wouldn't you!?"

Raph stood up and Donatello scrambled back so as not to get knocked over.

"That's different."

"Oh yeah, how? He loves Karai . . . just like us," Mikey added sounding a little less convinced.

Raph pounced, "He shouldn't, Mikey. That's what so messed up about this. It's not the same. He doesn't even know her. Not only that but she's tried to kill us. She hates us! She hates him!"

"That's not true!" Mikey's hands were in fists at his sides, chest puffed up as Raph crowded him.

"Even if it wasn't, what about Leo?"

Mikey deflated, eyes growing huge.

"Huh, smart guy? What about what happened to your brother? What he went through was worth it? Just to get that little bitch back here so she can stab Master Splinter in the back the first chance she gets. You're gonna stand there and tell me it was good what Master Splinter done?"

Mikey was shaking his head.

"What? You think you understand her or somethin'? Is that what you're trying to tell me and Don, here? You babysat her for a few hours and she talked you into believing some sob story about her and her dad, the Shredder?" He poked Mikey in the chest. "You got played. And Leo was nearly _killed_. Not only that . . . but-but . . ." his eyes flashed and he dropped what he was about to say. Instead he went on, "All for that rotten bitch to be brought here and what? No. No! I am not going to stand here and listen to you defend any of this."

Mikey flinched. "No. Sh-She said . . . she told me . . ."

"What? What did she tell ya?" Raph shook his head and started to pace. "Of course you'd believe her."

"W-What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you're stupid enough to be tricked by that little act of hers."

Mikey's hurt face snapped to his other brother. Donatello leaned against his computer desk. He crossed his arms and shook his head. He felt a wave of hurt for Donatello not backing him up. Mikey pressed his mouth into a tight line.

"You guys are the idiots here. You are. You're stupid. 'Cuz Master Splinter isn't going to change his mind. Karai's his daughter and he loves her. We gotta try," he switched tactics again, pleading now for them to understand and hear him out. "We have to. For Leo."

Raph rounded on him. "For Leo? Are you kiddin' me?! You're gonna stand there and tell me we need to be nice to Karai and accept her for _Leo_?" He shook his head in disgust. "You don't even know what they did to him."

"I was in the room when you brought him home! I heard what you said."

Raph narrowed his eyes. He huffed brushed him away with a dismissive gesture. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand and I'm not gonna spell it out for you."

Mikey's eyes were brimming now. He slapped the sides of his thighs then did it again. "Well, I guess you've made up your mind."

"That's right. I have."

"You're gonna keep fighting with Dad and D-Donnie's just . . . just going to . . ."

Donatello glanced up, curious.

"I dunno, freak out and get all weird on us. Lock himself away in his head. Yeah, th-that's going to do a lot for Leo."

Don straightened up, digesting Mikey's accusation.

Mikey looked at Raph who was not affected by his tearful speech. "And then what, Raph?"

"I dunno. But I do know that Karai is not going to get away with this. Leo . . . what he went through . . ." Raph's face grew dark and his eyes flashed. In a low growl of a voice he promised, "I'm gonna make her pay for what was done to our brother." With that he stormed out of the room.

Mikey twisted and watched him go, standing helplessly before turning back to Donatello. He remained stoic and blank faced.

"Donnie . . . Please."

He felt something starting to crack inside of him at his younger brother's wide, glassy-eyed appeal. Talking to April last night had helped. Though he didn't tell her what was going on at home, just seeing her face, just chatting like a normal teen about normal things like chemistry homework and algebra; it had calmed him immensely, composed him; renewed and rejuvenated him. The way his heart pounded in his chest when she appeared on the computer screen reminded him that he did not want to be unable to feel anything. He was afraid. But he did not want to be a soulless automaton.

It was like moving through wet cement, but he managed to raise his arm. Mikey, with a look of infinite relief, collapsed forward into the proffered hug. He clung to Donnie, squeezing him.

"Don't shut us out, bro. We need ya. Leo . . . Raph . . . me. I need your help. I dunno what to do. Raph's right," he choked. "I dunno what happened to Leo. But I know it was b-bad. Th-They cut off his arm, Donnie."

Unable to hold back any longer, he cried into Donnie's chest, shaking and blubbering for a bit in his big brother's embrace. He felt Don rubbing his shell in a comforting way. When he finally pulled back, he saw that Don was crying, too. Mikey rubbed the side of his brother's face double checking that he wasn't imagining it. Then with the back of his hand he wiped his own wet cheek. He breathed out a broken chuckle.

"I'm glad you can still do that, dude. I was . . . g-getting a little worried. Will you h-help me?"

Don nodded.

"What should we do?"

Donatello looked towards the door of his bedroom. He swallowed and sniffed. Then he looked back down at Mikey who was waiting for some answer to solve all of this. The picture was broken into a hundred thousand shards scattered all around them, but Donnie could still make it out. It was not a lost cause. But they needed to pick up each piece individually. Examine it and then mend it as best as possible. He knew some of the pieces were damaged irrevocably, but they'd still fit; warped a little, but he believed the picture could be made whole again. He had to. For Mikey. For Splinter and Raphael. For himself. But mostly for Leo.

"Raph, he'll need to calm down. He's like a ticking time bomb. He's just too angry right now. He . . . He hurt himself last night. Punching the bricks. God," Don shook his head, pinched the bridge of his snout. Mikey's wide eyes grew larger. "We'll need to keep him away from Karai. Maybe get April down here to watch over Karai. Like . . . like chaperone her. Help Master Splinter with acclimating Karai to her new home. And then . . ." Don sighed. "He's gonna need us."

Mikey nodded eagerly. Having Don back and offering his help was like coming up for air after feeling himself drowning. He wasn't alone in this, not anymore. He never felt more grateful that he had brothers than he did in that moment.

"Leo, you mean?"

"Yeah," Donnie said. His expression soured as he fell back into his computer chair and Mikey blinked, suddenly afraid.

"Master Splinter is struggling with some denial, I think." He tapped at the surface of the desk. He glanced at Mikey then away. "Leo's going to need us today. Sensei is going to have him explain what went wrong at the Foot headquarters."

Mikey blinked hard, frowning, trying to comprehend the situation. "Y-You mean . . . why his arm was cut off?"

Donnie squeezed his brother's shoulders. "Yeah, Mikey. Something like that."

"Leo will just tell him what happened." He didn't understand why Don seemed concerned about this. Leo always told Master Splinter what happened during their runs or battles with the Foot. Why was this any different? A thought hit him and his stomach did a little flip. "Donnie, Splinter will believe him. Right?"

Donatello dropped his arms to his sides. He pushed the chair back a little with his toes. The rush of emotions going through him made him suddenly miss the cool detachment that he'd started to form inside himself. It was so much easier to lock away these feelings than deal with them directly. A faint headache formed in the side of his head.

"Of course. But . . ."

"But what?"

"Mikey . . ." How could he explain this in a way that his little brother could understand? He searched Mikey's bright blue eyes. His brother was very intuitive. Silly as he could be at times, he was unusually receptive of the family's underlying feelings. "What Leo went through while at the Foot headquarters . . . there's more to it than-than a fight, or-or a battle." Don's frown deepened at the lost look on Mikey's face. He swallowed and tried again. "Something bad happened to Leo." Mikey opened his mouth but Don held up his hand to silence him. "Other than his hand and arm, Mikey. When we found Leo . . . he was . . . well, he was in the Shredder's bedroom. In his, uh, bed."

Mikey blinked. He didn't understand but his stomach was starting to hurt. A vague concept was taking shape in the back of his mind and he didn't want it to finish. A mental image of his brave, smart, quick brother . . . in the Shredder's bedroom. Why would he be in there? What about the word Raph had said. He mentioned sex. That Leo had been a . . . a toy. Mikey's stomach lurched. He suddenly wanted Donnie to shut up. He couldn't hear whatever it was that was too terrible to say aloud. He didn't want to know what happened to Leo. Not to him. Not his big brother. His super hero, ultra-captain of goodness and ninja skill. No. He didn't think he could bear it. He stepped forward and covered Don's mouth with his hand as he opened it again.

He whispered, but didn't know why. "Don't tell me, okay? I'm going to have nightmares about this as it is, okay?"

Donnie looked up at him. He blinked and nodded. Two large tears broke free from Don's eyes, wetting Mikey's hand.

He went on, still whispering, "Maybe . . . maybe one day. W-When I'm bigger, okay? When I can . . . handle it, okay? O-Okay?" _Maybe never. Is that okay?_

Donnie covered Mikey's hand, still over his mouth, gently giving it a pat and nodded again.

* * *

**A/N:** Aw, Mikey.

And Leo x Karai. waaaah! You know I love pairing them up. _ (I MUCH prefer the slow version of Wonderwall by Ryan Adams - haunting!)_


	13. Chapter 13

_'I always loved you, held you high above, too._

_I studied your face, and the fear goes away,_

_The fear goes away.' – Sirens, _Pearl Jam

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

* * *

Her warmth lingered along the back of his head and neck. The unique scent of her skin was a balm to his momentary fright of not knowing where he was. When he fully opened his eyes, however, she was laying on her cot, back facing the room and he was alone. The dispersing warmth from his skin made him ache to have her close again. She had come to him in the middle of the night, he remembered. She had rescued him while he was in the throes of a half-remembered experience posing as a nightmare between his waking mind and his subconscious. The terror of the recollection as well as the awful images he'd relived loomed at the corners of his sleepy mind.

Heart slowing its pounding race now that he fully understood he was not in the Shredder's chambers, but home, in Donatello's lab, he rose up on one elbow and felt the barbs of pain shoot through his left arm and shoulder, up through his bottom and down his legs. The swelling on his face had receded some but the bruises and cuts felt tender and raw all over his body. Every move took effort and gritted-teeth concentration. Each movement brought tugging against the sliced and stitched flesh along his arms and legs.

The throbbing of his missing hand and wrist was something he could not understand. Why would it hurt so much when it wasn't even there? Vaguely, he wondered with a sick stomach whether the Kraang were possibly experimenting on it now, and that phantom pain he was feeling, that all too real ache and throb, was in response to the torture his separated limb was enduring as he sat there. He did not want to remember that lab. The bright lights. The monstrous Kraang speaking to one another in that strange repeating fashion. The thought of his severed appendage trapped there left him feeling strangely sad. It was an odd feeling of turning his back on a captured friend. But there was nothing he could do about it now. His hand and part of his arm was lost. Forever. He fidgeted where he sat, cradling his severed appendage, looking out into the dim room with a distant, lost expression.

Slowly, his eyes roved to where Karai lay. He wanted to thank her, but embarrassment over his nightmare stole his tongue. What sort of warrior suffered bad dreams? What sort of leader cried out in his sleep like a child? Leonardo huffed in self-loathing. But the feeling was short lived as he traced the curve of her shoulder and hip with his gaze. He was glad she remained and hadn't tried to run away. He knew that she just needed time. That she was confused and scared. Her betrayal by her father was much worse than his own, he thought and quickly amended his own train of thought. No.

_Splinter did not betray me._

But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on this point, it seemed to slip out of his mind's grasp. He couldn't hold onto it long enough to really believe in it. He wanted to. He needed to. But the harder he tried to convince himself, the less confident he was.

He stole another glance in her direction. Perhaps some good might have come from all this. He swallowed; one foot moved to cover the other where they hung over the side of the cot. If Master Splinter was able to gain his daughter back from his mortal enemy; if he wasn't abandoned as he had feared, but brought home where he belonged, which he _had_ been; then maybe, his torment and degradation didn't matter. What he went through could be considered a small sacrifice in the larger scheme of things, he tried to tell himself. Leonardo wanted to believe that, at least, what he'd gone through was not for nothing. He had served his purpose. An item to be used for a simple exchange. A freak for a daughter.

What difference did it make that he was beaten . . . he began to tremble . . . raped and disfigured for trying to defend himself . . . he blanched and felt nauseous . . . then played the role of plaything to the Shredder's violent sexual appetites all night. He stood up on wobbling legs, panting and desperate to escape. But escape from what he didn't know. His heart was beating too fast, sweat poured down the sides of his face and neck, his knees knocked into one another. He took a step forward.

"Karai?" he asked tentatively in a tremulous voice.

He suddenly wished she was awake. That she'd come over and hold him again as she had done last night. It was hard to breathe and hard to stand upright on his own. He needed something to support himself. His shaking was making it difficult to think straight. He cleared his throat softly, hoping to waken her. She didn't move and he wondered if she was faking being asleep so she didn't have to admit to holding him last night and up to the last few minutes before he'd fully awakened. The thought sent an unexpected wave of disappointment through him on top of his irrational bout of fright. Suddenly, he doubted his understanding of her feelings for him. His chest tightened. He couldn't think. He was too emotionally fragile; too scared right now; he had to calm himself.

"Get ahold of yourself," he whispered, head low. He rocked a little where he stood, still cradling his left arm. He shuffled his feet back until he was leaning on the side of the mattress. A soft groan escaped from his lips. His legs quaked and his tail felt funny, as though it was stuck at an odd angle to his bottom and inside of his thigh. He took in a long steady breath and blew it out. Then another. And one more. His racing heart slowed. The shaking reduced to tremors that swept over him and fled. He felt cold and weakened. Meek and small.

He glanced back to where he'd lain. Sure enough, the bloodstain stood out against the white of the sheet in stark accusatory contrast. He needed to ball up the blanket and hide this before any of his brothers saw it. He didn't know what they knew of his torment, but if they found out that he'd been . . . repeatedly . . . They would never look at him the same way. They would not respect him, he was sure. What leader allows himself to be taken like that? A brave leader fights and something like that never happens to them. Never. Face blazing, he moved to pull the blanket from the cot, but his body trembled and froze. His eyes widened and he could not move from where he stood even if he wanted to. Blinking rapidly, his over-stressed mind withdrew from reality.

He was back at the Foot headquarters again, being beaten without mercy by the Shredder in front of the crowd of silent men; he was laying on the slick floor of the bathroom, dripping and cold while their fists pummeled him; his legs forced apart; his tail grabbed and pulled cruelly; the men's hungry panting and low, eager urging; their voices like the predatory growling of wild beasts, as first one drove into him and then the others took his place despite his efforts to get himself free; the sharp pain, the sharper humiliation; their hands pressing his head back against the floor, holding his legs and arms, kneeling on them so he couldn't move, only able to gasp and groan in impotent rage through his furious tears.

There was no honor left in the world; nothing good or whole; he existed alone in his terror; there was no one to help him; there was only this pain and this shame, so full and bright in his mouth, tasting like rancid meat at the back of his throat. He did not want to cry out, but it hurt so much and he could not help the cries from breaking from his throat; bubbling out in whimpering and whining, and then when he fought back he was punished. Severely. And then later, as though to reinforce his servitude, his humility, he was shown clearly what his future would be: the Shredder's personal pet.

_He raped me and I called him father. What leader is so weak to do that? I called him father. I'm weak. Pathetic. So weak. I called him father as he raped me_, his mind repeated over and over, tears now streaming down his flushed face, until a hand on his shoulder had him crying out and falling back, scrambling under the cot, cringing and shaking his head, bringing his arms up over his face to shield himself. His voice cracking in terror, _"No! Don't! Please! Don't!"_

Splinter stood over him. His amber eyes deep and round. He crouched down as he said, "My son, it is only I."

Shivering and doing his best to compose himself he awkwardly crawled out from under the cot, wet face burning in embarrassment. He climbed to stand before Splinter. Head low between his shoulders.

He choked out, "I-I'm sorry, Master Splinter. I-I just . . . I just . . . I'm sorry."

Splinter shook his head. "No need to apologize, I did not mean to startle you," he said and glanced at the bed. Remembering what was displayed on that sheet, Leonardo moved to stand in front of the stain but it was too late. His father had seen the evidence of his assault. _Oh, no_. His stomach flipped and sank to his knees. Leo ducked his head as Splinter straightened up.

"Perhaps you will want to clean yourself before speaking to me."

The suggestion was merely to give his son a moment to collect himself, but the sudden blanching of Leonardo's face along with the deeply shamed expression had Splinter reevaluating his choice of words. "I mean to say, if you would like to refresh your, uh . . ." he indicated the sheets but was growing more wary of his choice of words by each passing second of his son's continually graying face and widening eyes. Somehow he knew he was making this all the more difficult on his son but was clueless as to how he could rectify the situation. In all his years as teacher and father, he never dreamed that he would be faced with such a precarious predicament. And he could not help but feel the impotent fury rise within him at the Shredder's treachery, at his own foolhardiness, his pride, and eventually, shamefully, at his son for not somehow avoiding this entire situation. It was cowardice at the most basic level, he knew and he was doing his best to fight back the denial and the blame, but it would surface, like a tarnished smear upon a lovely heirloom; it continued to reappear, despite his efforts to banish it.

"I'll take care of the laundry," Karai offered, emerging from nowhere to stand just behind Splinter, her own bedding in her arms.

Before he could protest, Karai marched over past Leonardo and pulled the sheets from the cot, folding them over and over until the stain disappeared. The bundle tucked firmly in her arms, she gave him a sidelong glance and murmured, "I've got this, Leo."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He didn't want Karai to know, either, but it felt safe for some reason with her. It was alright with her. He trusted her. She would protect his shameful secrets. She would understand what happened to him was not by choice. She would know that something intangible but no less precious was ripped from him and she would not blame him. Karai would know who to place the blame upon. His eyes traveled up to Master Splinter who was watching Karai with a pleased expression. He swallowed dryly.

_It doesn't matter what happened to me. Master Splinter has his daughter. He is happy, now. I have been torn to pieces but he is whole. _He closed his eyes as a tremor swept through him._ It was worth it. For my Master's happiness, it was worth it._

Splinter nodded to Karai, clearly relieved that she was not fighting with either of them, if anything she was being helpful. That fact alone gave him great hope for the future. He would win her over, yet. In time, she would know her true worth. Her true place in his heart and in this clan.

"The washing machines are found in our laundry room directly down the hall to your right, Karai. Thank you."

She turned stiffly, making sure not to acknowledge Splinter's presence or his gratitude and left the room with chilled indifference.

Splinter looked at Leonardo who stood clutching his arm awkwardly, face still appearing pale and forlorn. "Are you ready to speak to me about what happened, my son?"

A visible tremor went through him. For a few long seconds he did not speak and then he asked, "Will I, uh, m-may I speak to you about it . . . in-in private, Master Splinter?" He raised fearful eyes to his Sensei and held his breath as he waited for the response. He was not sure if he'd be able to relate what was done to him in front of his brothers. If anything, he'd rather forget that it ever had happened. But he knew that Splinter wanted answers. Explanations.

"Yes. Of course. Let us convene in my chambers, then."

Splinter held out his arm and Leonardo crept past him. His son's usual confident stride was replaced with a mouse-like scurry. Splinter felt at once full of pity and concern, but beneath that slithered the smallest amount of irritation at him. Leonardo was, after all, his eldest son, the one that would lead this clan when he was no longer able. He would need to deal with what happened and move past it. The sooner the better. For all of them, he decided. Splinter was more than happy to assist him in any way possible. But he would not sit idly by and allow his son, any of his sons, to wallow in weakness. It would destroy his spirit. Splinter gripped the end of his cane and brought the bottom to rest upon Leonardo's shoulder, freezing him in place.

"Leonardo," he said firmly. "No matter what a ninja endures, he does so with grace. He does not show his pain. For to do so is to reveal weakness to our enemies, do you understand?"

Leonardo blinked. "I-I think so." He wondered what enemies Splinter was referring to when it was only he and his sensei in the room presently. Still he clung to his arm and his posture was one of being chastised.

A fresh wave of irritation swept through Splinter. He wanted his son, his sure, assertive son to resurface. It could begin with his tone losing the tremulous waver of a whining child. Splinter thought perhaps the first step would be to have Leonardo clean himself up. Maybe then he would feel more like himself. It would be easier to converse with his student if he were not behaving so sheepish.

"If you need to . . . freshen yourself before we speak, than please do so."

He gave an awkward shake of his head and one hand rested at the base of his throat, shoulders pulled in tight. "Do-Do you wish for me to?" came the tentative question.

"If it will make you feel better, if it will allow yourself to compose your spirit and body, then yes. I will wait in my chambers for you. See me when you are refreshed."

Feeling the filth of his dishonor covering him like a stain, he swallowed and made his way to the bathroom as quickly as he could. His chest heaved and he did his best not to think that Splinter thought of him as dirty. He closed the door behind himself and leaned on it. Then, with shaking limbs he filled a basin under the skin with warm water and dipped a hand towel into it. Everything was made awkward and took twice as long as it normally would as he adjusted to having only one hand to work with. His missing hand and wrist all the while aching and throbbing. A constant reminder that they were missing and most likely being experimented on.

He stared at the rag and suddenly didn't quite know where to start. Did his sensei, with his sensitive sense of smell, detect the scent of the Shredder on him? For the man's acrid scent still seemed to permeate the nooks and crannies of his battered body. He crouched and began wiping at his sore tail and tender flesh surrounding it. He peeled his tail away from his body with a soft hiss. Dried blood flaked and smeared and it took several rounds of rinsing out the basin and wringing his rag to finally clean his bottom completely. He winced and shook, catching his breath. He could not see how bad he was torn up, but feeling with his fingertips, he could sense the swollen and partially distended flesh. At least he felt somewhat cleaner. Somewhat better.

He glanced at the bathtub and wished he could submerge himself; sink below the water line and block out all his thoughts, all his memories of the last few days. Even to shower would have been nice; to wash away his pain; the scent that lingered on his skin like a permanent brand. His distinct scent. Suddenly the urge to rid himself of the Shredder's musky odor was nearly overpowering. He bit back his panic. By the thin strands of will power he had left, he pulled himself into the closest thing to calm he could conjure. The bandages on his legs and arms couldn't get wet. His cuts needed time to heal. He had to content himself with the sponge bath he'd just given himself. It was the cleanest he'd be for a while. He'd just have to ignore the scent of his attacker; taunting him at certain turns of his head. He absentmindedly scratched at the wrappings around his severed arm. He backed away from the tub and shower. It was time to speak to Splinter.

As he left the bathroom, he ran into Raphael.

"Leo!" Raph gasped. "What the heck are you doing up?"

Raphael braced his hands awkwardly near, but not quite touching, Leo's bandaged arms. His reluctance to make contact with him both hurt and relieved Leonardo. His head swam.

"I had to, uh, I needed to just," he licked his bottom lip, lost for an explanation. "I'm going to speak to Splinter now."

Raphael's mouth hung open. Then he closed his eyes and huffed. His arms fell. Leo looked down and frowned.

"What happened? To your hands?"

Raph picked them up and dropped them to his sides. "It ain't important." He gave Leo a furtive glance then swept his eyes to the floor. "Leo, I swear to god. I swear. I'm gonna make him pay for what he did to ya. All of them. They won't get away with this."

"Raphael, please, don't do anything . . ."

"What? Stupid?" He chuckled and it was cold and hollow. Empty of mirth. The hunger for violent retribution tinging the edges.

"No. Just. Don't do anything."

Raphael's face dropped into a deep frown. Understanding bloomed. _"What?"_ he asked sharply.

"It . . . isn't worth it."

Before Leo could say anything else, Raph had him. He cringed as his younger brother's strong, large hands gripped his shoulders, squeezing painfully. He tried to shrink back, heels bracing against the floor, but Raphael held him still. A bolt of fright went through him, despite knowing that Raphael would never hurt him. It was irrational, this panic, but it was real. His brother was much stronger than him at the moment. Bigger. He could throw him down . . . onto the floor . . . he could hold him. He clenched his jaw to keep himself from whimpering; pupils pinpricks of acute fright.

Raphael was oblivious to the terror he was causing Leonardo. Had he even guessed, he would not have held him like that. But he was caught up in his outrage. His hurt. "Don't you ever say that again." Raphael's eyes narrowed to slits and he spoke through gritted teeth. "You got that? Don't you ever try 'n tell me that you ain't worth me fightin' or . . . or bleedin' over . . . Never again. Leo. You. You are better than any of 'em. And what they . . ." he grew breathless and his hold, thankfully, eased up. He dropped his head, shook it, and released Leonardo, but not before patting his brother roughly against his chest.

It took all his strength not to collapse. The aching intensified and he took his shaking right hand and cradled his left arm close to his middle. The rising panic constricted in his heaving chest. He panted through grinding teeth, staring at the floor between them. _ I'm okay. I'm okay. He wouldn't hurt me._

Raphael stepped aside and crossed his arms. "Go 'n talk to Sensei. Then I want you back in bed restin', got it?"

Speechless and still recovering, Leo gave him a slight nod and then headed towards Master Splinter's room on shaking legs. He glanced over one shoulder.

"Promise me, Raph. You won't do anything without talking to me first, at least. Okay?"

Raphael looked away and to Leonardo's surprise and hurt, he turned his shell to him and walked out of the room. No promises given. None to break. An uneasy feeling filled him and he turned once more to his master's bedroom; knees rippling like water; fear settling on his shoulders like snow, just as icy, sinking past his flesh into his quaking soul.

* * *

**A/N: **Next the talk. How will Splinter handle this delicate moment. hmmm


End file.
